A number of things have probably raised my blood pressure to dangerous levels over the last few days and I think I should let off steam before I write the official complaint. Although the immediate sight of ‘he who thinks he should be obeyed (hbo)’ battling with the cat on his lap (Mao) that has his kitty foot on 'hbo's' IPod and the dog (Ralph) with his nose up said cat’s arse in true doggy greeting is relieving a lot of stress!!
I digress...it has been a tough few days with my Mum being taken very ill (as only an 84 year old can) on bank holiday Monday. And I guess that is what has spurred me to the main topic of my rant.
Now I am an ardent supporter of our beloved NHS – I worked within it for a few years and OK like all great institutions it has its faults and creaks in places but, on the whole, when you are in dire need it pulls out all the stops to help you. However, these last few days there is one thing that has depressed rather than angered me about this beloved regime of care.
A few years ago in a great flurry of positive PR Lloyd Grossman set about hospital food and now all the daily menus have dishes with a little chef’s hat next to key dishes designed to delight the patient. Mum is not really in the mood for food at the moment (a worry all itself but that’s the personal stuff and not for this occassion) but then again, like all sick people she needs nourishment as part of the healing process and so it should be a key part of her treatment plan. She can’t make her own choices presently but I do know the kind of food she enjoys. So pen in hand I fill in the little blocks on the menu to pick out some tasty morsels for her. Because of her current condition it is hard to find out if she enjoys my selections, but I think I know now...
Today, for a variety of reasons, I was allowed special visiting privileges and found myself at her bedside when lunch arrived. I had selected haddock with parsley sauce (and chef’s hat), peas and carrots to tempt her followed by an apple. OK the plate had exactly that order on it...but I think you know the reality. The fish was rock hard, the sauce a solid blob, the peas a dull green and shrivelled more than the majority of the patients on the ward but oh joy, the carrots looked pretty. Oh yes, the apple was a pale yellowish green and looked like the journey from France began with the Normandy landings we are currently celebrating. Needless to say the few mouthfuls I tried to get her to eat returned rapidly giving me faith that she is not completely detached from reality.
BUT HOW THE HELL WILL SHE GET BETTER IF THIS IS WHAT SHE IS EXPECTED TO EAT?
You might try to tell me today was blip but we all know it wasn’t – and anyway one of the ladies who is at the stage where she can communicate told me it was the norm – she had been made sick by the previous day’s offerings. I will have to say something but I know it won’t change much, mass catering is beyond us as a nation. My plan is to ask the Trust Board to make an unannounced visit to the wards and see if they would be willing to partake of the chef’s hat.
Watch this space for the results.
Cat and dog now asleep, ‘he who thinks he should be obeyed’ is nodding patiently.
