Who do I have to kill to get a frigging banana?
The headach continues unabated. Tylenol is a pseudo medicine. It does not work. A gazillion dollar company that peddles placebos.
Roomate is better behaved although had a big argument with some visitor. And man, what a gossip! People calling and streaming in all day long, and she's telling one about the other, revealing secrets, and in one case, telling about a family secret from 75 years ago. This opportunity to eavesdrop on a complete stranger's life is interesting in it's scope. I must appear so boring to my neighbors. My main topic of familiar conversation is "did you finish your homework?"
So let's talk food. As in, "help, I'm starving!" First, and yes this sounds racist and I just don't give a damn, could the hospital PLEASE hire people who speak and understand English fluently to deal with the ordering of meals? Is this too much to ask? In this hospital they give you a 'menu' from which you can order your choice of meals. Things are divided up by both meal options, and then individual components. Idealy, it's a good idea. If you want to customize a sandwich, you can do so. But... in reality it takes forever because the person from the kitchen you're talking with has no English skills. So you have to go over and over every single item, and they never get it right. Three meals today. I ordered a banana for breakfast. It did not come. I ordered a banana for lunch. It did not come. I ordered a banana for dinner. You fill in the blank.
Give me a frigging banana.
Not one meal has come out right. For dinner tonight I was told I was not allowed to eat tomatoes. Huh? I checked with the nurse? She looked at me as if I was nuts. Believe me, tomatoes are fine for me to eat. No restrictions at all.
Then there are the items on the menu that don't really exist. Rasberry sorbet? It says they have it. If you order it, you get Lemon Sherbert. Close, no cigar! Lucky I like Lemon Sherbert.
But my absolute favorite is that, at the bottom of the menu, in teeny tiny letters, it says that the hospital cooks everything well done to prevent the possibility of food contamination. Now, I don't like anything well done, but when a hospital says well done, they mean 'one step past shoe leather'. I ordered a chicken caesar salad. The chicken was inedible. The salad dressing was ranch. But it did have a lot of romaine lettuce. And black olives. The chicken put me right off even considering any other meat. I've been eating turkey wraps. They can't kill those. They try, but they can't.
If they don't let me out tomorrow, I'm asking someone to deliver a large bag of peanut M&Ms, stat. I need the protein. Stumble It! JBlog Me