Reformed QPC Junkie revisited and hospital musings…

Hello everyone…last year I confessed that I was a rehabed Quarter Pounder With Cheese Junkie…had to have me some Mickey D’s from time to time.  Not all the time, but often enough.  That is until I read Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser about 6.5 years ago.   Ew.

My exceptions to the rule are In n’ Out and the occasional, (READ: ONCE IN A BLUE FREAKING MOON), Chick-Fil-A  - because c’mon folks, this is not real food.  I will not launch into my personal diatribe about what is real food and what isn’t - because, I too, have been guilty of picking up McDonald’s when I was too busy/too broke/too drunk to cook.  Let’s be real.   But not anymore. 

Firstly, I make time to cook - it is therapeutic to me.  Secondly, what used to cost $2.99 plus tax, now, according to Ronald followers up to $8.99 - you can make a meal for that or at LEAST pick up one of those chickens at the market and mash yourself some tater’s.  C’mon.  And lastly, well, the drunk part…I don’t drink myself into oblivion, drive to the closest McDonald’s at 2:15 a.m. and sit for 30 minutes with the rest of the drunk fools (on a side note, in college, I was actually behind somebody in a Hardee’s drive thru that had PASSED OUT at the wheel, in between the order box and the first window…NOW that is a BUMMER at 2 AM)  Nowadays, I take a cab and then come home to devour whatever is in the fridge. 

I was in the hospital with my Mom this past week - her spleen ruptured, and caused an abnormal amount of internal bleeding - like massive amounts.  Scared me to death.  She ended up have a major transfusion and in ICU for 3 days and on a saline diet for the better part of the time.  As I watched her sleep, I thought about the couple of times that I had been in the hospital.  And me being the foodie that I am, thought about how I reacted to not eating/eating hospital food.  The most recent surgery was for GERD and frankly, I wasn’t up much for eating…horror of horrors.  I ate smoothies for a whole month…Did you know that you can make Avocado Smoothies?  But that’s a whole other Oprah…

But the surgery before that?   I was still a QPC junkie.

I was scheduled to have surgery that would reconstruct my entire foot -  the surgeon stated that I would be in the hospital for 2-3 days.  I asked about food, of course, and he said to me “Well, it’s hospital food - you probably won’t be hungry anyhow from the anesthesia…blah, blah, blah.”  This man obviously didn’t know me very well - I HAVE AN IRON CONSTITUTION.

I came out of the surgery with no problems - woke up in the recovery room HUNGRY, because you know they were trying to kill me by making me fast the night before.  They wheeled me into my room and there sat Mr. G.  all smiles.  The first thing I said before I hit the morphine button was “I’m hungry…bring me a Quarter Pounder with cheese” and off I went into noddy land.  I awoke after a few hours to see him sitting there still.  Had he thought I’d forgotten???  Why hadn’t he gone?  I was gonna die, I’m sure of it, but before I could utter the words “I’m hungry” again, he picked up his backpack off of the floor and slowly unzipped it to produce a shimmer of hope in that QPC wrapper!

“GIVE IT TO ME!”, I said with all the passions of the flesh.  He said “Hang on…I don’t want to get in trouble” and in his typical engineering, calculated mind figured out the timing and probability of when the techs/nurses would be back in to check my vitals.  With everything under control in his mind, he produced the burger to me.  It was cold, but I didn’t care.  I was about to beat the system.  No stinky hospital food for this girl! HA!

I ate the first half, without abandon…then someone had an emergency in the next room, so everyone was a flutter - we wrapped it up and put it back in his pack.  The nurse came in and I swallowed the entire wad of hamburger in my mouth in one gulp. “Everything alright in here?”  Me: “Mmmm hmmm…”

I flashed my gaze back at him…like an addict - “Give me the rest - hurry.  Quick”  And with that, I wolfed down the 2nd half. 

Then came the realization there is a reason why you don’t eat street food (especially greasy food that isn’t really food) while on anesthesia.  It makes you sick.    With the combination of anesthesia, morphine and well, not really eating a whole heck of a lot before hand, it well, made me sick.

Back to present day, this past Sunday, I went to the hospital cafe and with my fair share of free coffee and tea, I smuggled some ice cream to my mom.  She was so excited to have it and surprisingly ate most of it.  And I thought that’s just what we do in our family, we have each other’s backs in a time of need.