All those snacks the other day (previous post) started another wave of food longing, dammit. For those who've just tuned in, I cannot eat or drink at all the regular way, instead using a marvellous tube directly through my abdomen wall into my stomach.
Most every day, I am completely fine with it. I shared lunch wth my wife yesterday, which is unusual as we typically eat at different times, but I was due for a feed (which I do 5 times a day fairly clockwork-ish) and she had soup and rolls ready so we sat and dined together. Well, she dined, I tubed my homemade blend of stuff. It was lovely, but along with a few other things kicked me back into eating grief.
I have realised I may never quite get over it, you know. Meeta has compared it to losing a limb, and there's a lot in that thought. Unlike quitting say, smoking - which was not exactly easy I can assure you - this is not something I can actually choose to do again.
Big thing, food, isn't it? I am now more of a gourmand than ever, and mostly this pleases me because I can really get off on imagination.
But then sometimes I just really want to make myself some toast.
Oh well, thanks for listening. I feel better now.
Now that I think about it, it has been ages since I've had this reaction. So, yay me, I suppose!
Still, shame about the toast. If someone had used as an example of cherishing life in each and every moment, (because you never know when you might be suddenly struck by a re-entering zero-gravity toilet from a defunct space station), the idea of contemplation of the simplicity of toast - I may have had a chuckle.
Seriously folks, do please make your next piece of toast the best you've ever had. It will be so worth it.
Just read your toast story as the smell of burnt toast wafted through the house and the crust of a particuly burnt bit, stuck between my gum and a tooth. At least I know as it hurts all day that I can have another piece of toast and do appreciate that I can.
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