Can’t get a non-blurred picture, so you’ll have to believe me.
I’m getting rather fed up with the bland white diet I’m subjecting myself to in order to overcome (soon, I hope) this lingering stomach-lurgy. Toast, crackers, the odd banana. Someone suggested yoghurt but that did not help, rather the opposite. Spaghetti floating in instant vegetable stock seems to go down nicely, but not three nights in a row, so last night I boiled a potato instead. I’ve been hallucinating food: fresh whiting with salad and new potatoes, turkey wraps with cranberry and avocado, grandma’s roast dinners, blueberries and icecream. See, even meat, which I don’t eat anymore. What’s happening to me? Actually eating anything is a different matter altogether – it’s a huge effort. Must keep it up, don’t want to disappear entirely.
Anyway, this mono-coloured diet reminds me of a client I had when I worked as a home care worker (the lovie says I have to stop telling these stories in social settings, they’re too depressing, so maybe this blog will become a final and happy home for them). This woman would only eat orange food. Orange and brown. She loved smoked mackerel, or whatever that bright orange fish is called. And sweet potatoes. The sweet potatoes were to be either sliced and roasted, or boiled with a couple of plain potatoes, and mashed up into a nice orange mash. Carrots and pumpkins were also popular. She’d eat cabbage too, but only if it was boiled to near disintegration. She ate oranges and kiwifruit (brown on the outside), and drank ginger tea. While I brewed her large jugs of ginger tea, I would make up canned salmon and mayonnaise sandwiches for the next day. It was an hour long shift, which was nowhere near long enough to cook dinner and make sandwiches and ginger tea and wash up and take the washing in and take her to the toilet and get her changed and rub vics vaporub and other concoctions on her various ailments. I got better at it, but she’d do anything she could to make you stay longer. She often started to cry, and asked if I had any nice men in my family who might be interested in her. No, I said, I don’t think so. But at least she had her orange fish.