Note: This is the third in my senses series. Sorry it's taking me so long to get these out. Not betaed.
TasteI could murder a steak. I could honestly slaughter a cow with my own hands and roast it on a spit cause if I have to go one more day with food that tastes like paper I'm gonna go crazy.
It's something I've been thinking about a lot during the waking moments when I'm alone. Why does hospital food taste so bad? Maybe it's a form of motivation. If patients want better food all they have to do is get better. That led to me wondering if they gave the terminally ill patients bad food. Those people are suffering enough they don't need bad food making their lives worse.
A part of me is glad however that I can't manage too much food. It saves me from having to sample everything the dinner tray has to offer.
Today's menu is just like yesterdays. Soft beige mush that I'm supposed to believe is mashed potato, shredded bits of unidentifiable meat and peas, which look like snot. I don't even want to try to identify the pudding. Something that was once jello, so I'm told.
I've moaned to Hutch a few times. When I was just upgraded to solid food I begged him for a burrito, but he refused. He was in cohorts with the doctor regarding my diet. Haven't I suffered enough? Is one burrito too much to ask for?
The doctor gave me a little presentation compete with diagrams on why I can't eat heavy foods, but what it seemed to come down was, if I ate a burrito I'd only chuck it back up soon after.
My salvation however is soon.
My partner told me he had a surprise for me. The only clue he could give me was it was related to food, but he didn't go into any details.
The dinner tray is taken away and I can only smile at its departure. The nurse gives me my medication on time thankfully and I just wait in my drug-induced cloud.
My mind goes through all the possibilities. Steak, meatloaf that's not dry, maybe even that lobster I never got.
I hum to myself happily while more images satisfy my curious mind.
I lose track of time and Hutch squeezes himself through the door, bringing me out of my fantasy world. He's trying his best to be quiet, but I can tell he's at least tipsy, if not already drunk. I laugh at his antics.
"Look what the cat dragged in." I slur. The painkillers also make me a little loopy which for tonight seems to be the theme.
He comes over to the bed and dumps a fancy silver bowl on my lap.
"Look at this, my goodness. Where the hell have you been?" I sit up in the bed, eager to open my present."
"What? It's 8:45." He says. I look over at the clock.
"By whose clock."
"Well, is something wrong with you?" I chuckle.
"Well, four pain killers, feeling no pain."
"We'll, we're even"
"Really?" I wonder what he means by that, but he sneaks off round the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"Move over, move over." I do what he says and he joins me in the bed. My attention however stays on the hidden food that is until Hutch grips the top of the lid.
"How long do you think it takes to stuff veal?" The unveiling is better than anything I could have dreamed.
"Oh boy, look at this." I say tucking in straight away. The food I've been eating recently is puke in comparison to this. I ask him if he ran into any trouble. He tells me he turned an orderly into a bottle of Jim Beam and we both laugh.
I don't know if it's the food or the company, or the painkillers but I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time.
"That's beautiful, huh?" Hutch says from under his metal hat.
"This is beautiful. It warms my heart." I try and make words sound as sincere as possible through my mouth full of food.
My taste buds have been revived from their weeks of hibernation. They've been welcomed back with a special treat and I just hope it's a start of a new pallet. No more dry meat or sad vegetables. I've graduated back to the food of the real world.
Hutch has brought me closer to the world of flavour. He deserves to share my dinner.
End
