After the Break (Part 4) - More Hospital Life

After the Break  (Part 4) - More Hospital Life

Catering

It took a while to get used to travelling the extra distance to the hospital Mum had been moved to; there was some resistance to our twice daily visits, and bringing in her food.

Armed with the permission I'd been granted by the first hospital, and taking into account Mum's age, the extended visits were sanctioned. I remember signing a disclaimer about providing Mum's meals, but eventually we could carry on as before.

By this time, it was getting on towards the end of November. The weather was getting worse; in rush hour traffic, with wind and rain, the journey could take an hour. Even so, our meals for Mum were still warm on arrival, and she would eat everything I had prepared for her. The food provided by the hospital catering did not have anything that Mum would eat; it was, as she put it, "All mucked about," with gravy often poured over the food; the sandwiches were also not to Mum's liking, as they included all sorts of "extras," such a spices and mayonnaise - none of which Mum touches. (I have to admit, I'm like this, too. I like plain bread and butter, and maybe a tomato, or a cucumber, as a filling.  The moment "a little bit of this, and a little bit of that..." are added, the whole thing has been ruined for me.  Mum and I are not, and never have been, what you could call adventurous with food!)

On one evening, I had made a large pan of Lancashire hot pot; wrapped up in the hot box, when I arrived on the ward, it was still piping hot, and smelled delicious. The aroma had the effect of the replicating the old Bisto kids' advert; as I walked down the main aisle of the ward, to Mum's bay, people looked up and, if they were mobile, followed me. They asked what I'd got in the hot box, and I explained it was Mum's dinner.

I know it's not easy catering for large numbers of people on a daily basis, on a limited budget; what I  also know, is that it is not difficult to make nutritious, delicious food quite cheaply; and the simpler the dish, the more people there are who are likely to enjoy it. Not everyone is into nouvelle cuisine and, talking to people around Mum's age, they are not overly fond of spicy  food, either.

Mum also likes bananas; I often left one by her bedside, to have as a snack when she felt like it. One day, the lady in the next bed called me over.

She said, "Your Mum's lucky, having you bring in the food she likes.  I've just been given this orange....."

She held it out for me; it was frozen, a solid ball of ice.

She asked, "How am I supposed to eat that?"

"And where on earth has it been stored?!" I wondered.

"I think I'd better be careful I don't drop it on my foot....."

Well, we had to laugh - but I fear other patients were quite envious of Mum and her custom-made menus.  When you're in hospital, you need to eat properly, to keep up your strength and help you get well enough to be discharged.

The nursing staff were, on the whole, very good.  They were all rushed off their feet, but somehow they kept smiling, kept going, and kept the patients cared for. There were a couple that were outstanding -  one was a lady from the Philippines, who was always patient, always smiling, and who had enough time to talk to everyone, yet still got everything done; the other was a male nurse from Liverpool, who made sure patients who needed help with eating and drinking, got food and fluids into them. He seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, and could keep tabs on anyone who might be in danger of trying to walk to the bathroom on their own, when they should wait for help.  He knew the street where Mum was born in Liverpool, and he would take time to reminisce with her.  It was lovely to know that when I left the hospital for a few hours, Mum was in pretty good hands.