A Mediterranean Diet

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In which Our Heroine entertains a new roommate in many fragrant ways

Am skulking in the patients’ lounge early in the morning to have my lovely coffee. I got a new roommate yesterday afternoon – a ‘post-op’ meaning we are both on ‘good drugs’ and snoring happily together and not bothering each other in the slightest. She is adorable.

But she clearly has a great passion for coffee, and alas, is ‘nil-by-mouth’. The scent of my coffee made the poor thing actually whimper so I crept out. She clearly has quite enough on her plate.

She also comes with an unexpectedly huge, warm, smiley family, so I went from a completely silent room to one full of cheerful strangers. It’s actually quite the improvement.

I am now at that part of my treatment where I was hoping for a sudden ‘hurrah’ cessation of pain, but alas it has not happened yet. And it may not. The Special K has been much easier on my system this time: I wonder if it’s an indication that my brain is learning to recognise it? I don’t know if that is good or bad, but I’m shooting for the former.

Right: yesterday’s culinary efforts. *

Wednesday was brought to you by the word TOMATO and the colour GARLIC.

No photo of my breakfast in deference to The Captain who is Not A Fan Of Baked Beans – but it is actually physically impossible to ruin beans (‘The Musical Fruit’), and say what you will, they are full of fibre, and resonance.

Luncheon

Tomato and ricotta tart alla scatola
Penne fradicio con spinaci morti

I hoofed in before I remembered to take photos, so excited was I by the idea of vaguely Mediterranean food, hence the fork action in the photos.

My overwhelming impression of both dishes was: tomato. Pretty much everything tasted of tomato: the tart, the ricotta, the pasta, the spinach, my pineapple juice, and the next three hours.

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Tomato

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Tomato. Fortunately I love tomato.

Dinner

Garlic lasagne with garlic vegetables in garlic sauce with garlic
Magical side salad

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Garlic. You cannot see it, but it’s there. Ask Floor 6. And Floor 5.

Aside from the grieving side vegetables, this was surprisingly strongly flavoured, for which I cannot apologise enough to my roommate.

The side salad was once again very excellent. It’s as though the Elves who assemble the dishes put their little elvish hearts and souls into every crisp ruffle of lettuce and freshly-sliced cucumber.

Thank you, Elves.

In other news, yesterday I finally got around to watching the movie ‘My Neighbor Totoro’ and then apparently it rained in the room, or something. I have to go now because the slow painful thaw of my icy, leaden heart is a little embarrassing, thank you, bye now.

 

* So I understand from a comment by a doctorly friend that the ‘staff meals’ are generally the same things that are offered to the patients, and I am praying that doesn’t mean ‘whatever the patients didn’t order’ but fearing perhaps it does. Meaning that after Curry Day we can expect a lot of uncomfortable, dyspeptic staff walking awkwardly and occasionally getting quite distracted and rushing out.

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