HOSPITAL FOOD
I have a few patients who unfortunately have to spend several weeks in the hospital for chemotherapy. Upon admission, their assigned intern dutifully notes their non-diabetic state and, without a second thought, checks off the box marked “regular diet”. Most short-term patients do not comment on the food, but for these long-term patients, food often becomes a big issue. One day, I decided to investigate.
Curious to see what “regular” meant, I intentionally made my rounds at lunchtime. Apologizing for the mealtime intrusion, I stepped in just in time to see the food trays arrive. Glancing at the entrees, I couldn’t help but empathize with my obviously disappointed patient. Thanks to the accompanying menu, we were able to recognize some of the food. In addition to bland vegetables and half reheated frozen entrees, the familiar dessert - repackaged fruit cups, ice cream and slices of iced pound cake added to the absurdity of this nutritional offering. They don’t call patients “patient” for nothing, I mused. “I hope you are hungry, Mr. Tiredofbeinghere (not his real name). You are allowed to stroll down to the cafeteria, you know. Maybe you’ll find something you like there.” Flicking at my phone, I saw it was close to half past noon. I forgot my packed lunch that day, so I too decided to take the elevator down to the cafeteria and check out the public offerings. If not settling for the hard boiled eggs and prepackaged salads, a person hoping to stay ketogenic will have to be extra creative. Unfortunately, pizza, breaded chicken nuggets, hoagies, rice and french fries were standard fare. Suddenly, intermittent fasting seemed to be a very attractive excuse.
“Next!!!” The short order cook waved his arms at me and yelled, “Hey Doc, what can I get for you?” I answered, “No potatoes or rice please. Just the salmon.”
“Uh, that’s actually chicken, Doc,” he said. “Ok, ok, chicken breast please. But without the breading.”
A quick survey of my half-filled tray revealed a strange combination. A cup of cottage cheese, a pack of mayo, a slab of chicken, and two boiled eggs. Filling up a small cup of coffee, I threw in some half and half and paid for my lunch.
Later, as I headed back to the chemotherapy outpatient suite, I stumbled across the familiar snack table. I strolled in just in time to see a nurse surreptitiously swipe a fist of Hershey’s Kisses and transfer them to her coat pocket. The volunteers were too busy restocking the licorice and thumbprint cookies to notice. Generous cups of sweet hot chocolate were being passed out to wornout patients and family members. Nauseated patients were sprawled out in deep plush recliners, dutifully taking comforting sips of chilled ginger ale, courtesy of our ever-cheerful nurses. A familiar patient was busy munching through bag of potato chips. Secretly shaking my head, I shuffled on to the back of the huge room.
This past week, some cancer drug representatives dropped off piles of cookbooks at the nurses’ station for the cancer patients to take home. Beautiful photographs of ribbon pasta and rice pilaf dishes graced the front cover. Still individually protected in crystal clear shrink-wrap, the stacks of gleaming paperbacks beckoned to me. I picked one up and quickly glanced at the bold title - “What to Eat When You Have Cancer”. Hmmm. Wheat muffins and strawberry ice cream floats graced the back cover. “Take one, Dr. Tan, it’s for free”, our nurse urged. Obligingly, I picked up a copy and tucked it under my elbow. With a half smile, I thought to myself, “For coffee table entertainment only”.
Change is desperately needed in Oncology. As far as nutrition is concerned, I see a long, lonely road ahead.

