Sam I Am Not

I spend a big part of my time pushing food at Roger and watching him flatly refuse it. Resources include, of course, the hospital cafeteria, which has now become completely unacceptable, a little kitchenette here in the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit with some basics stocked, and a supermarket about 3 blocks away. 

Roger is of the opinion that the Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and saltines in the cafeteria and kitchenette are inferior to those sold in the store, and he won’t eat them.  So I run to the store to buy them.  Of course they are as identical as two cans of manufactured soup and two saltines can be and he won’t eat them.  Then he thinks he might eat peanut butter on white bread if the bread was very fresh and if it’s the same brand of peanut butter that we use at home.  So I run to the store to buy bread and peanut butter.  Same story.  He remembers having a taste for fruit pie.  Say no more, I’m off to the store.  And it’s no go on the pie.  Fueled by rare, intermittent reinforcement (he swallowed the yogurt smoothie!) I keep trying.

I try to act on any suggestions Roger gives and I offer choices.  I am limited as to what I can bring in to the hospital.  The rules for bringing restaurant food into the hospital are very strict.  I can’t take the time to cook at home and don’t want the leftovers since I am alone there.  The foods that are successful seem to only work once.  He never wants to eat the same thing again.  If he can get down a few bites of anything, I consider it a success.

We’re stockpiling quite a supply of groceries.  With no storage space here in the hospital room, I haul the failed experiments home to the apartment.  But seriously, I don’t want to eat Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and saltines either.  I would not eat it in a car.  I would not eat it in a bar.  I would not eat it here or there.  I would not eat it anywhere.  If I get sued for unauthorized use of the photo, I’ll pay off the debt with inedible groceries.