Breakfast: Good morning! I spent the second night with my dad in the ICU. Gary joined me. I slept a little better than the night before in the recliner but Gary suffered. He put together a makeshift bed with two chairs and it wasn’t very comfortable. And speaking of comfort, the Family Comfort Cart arrived with more poison foods. I thought about the word comfort for a moment. The definition is “a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint.” “Comfort Food” is defined as food prepared in a traditional style having a usually nostalgic or sentimental appeal. We feel good enjoying them in the moment although in the long run they promote pain and suffering through the illnesses they cause. Our Family Comfort Cart offers snacks that many would consider comfort foods. Then there are the unfortunate “comfort women,” the women and girls forced into sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese Army in occupied territories before and during World War II. The name “comfort women” is a translation of the Japanese ianfu (慰安婦), a euphemism for “prostitute(s)”. And then there is the morphine that is being given to my dad right now to keep him comfortable. I am finding the word comfort and words and phrases that include comfort in them a bit unsettling at the moment.
Lunch: Gary and I left the hospital when we were relieved by my mom, sister and brother-in-law. Once at home we dug into the leftovers from yesterday, setting out a buffet with Purple Skin Sweet Potatoes, Baked Tofu, Oatmeal, Tomato Sauce with Tempeh, Greens with Onions, and White Potatoes.
As usual, I topped mine with cooked Mushrooms.
Dinner: I was having desperate smoothie cravings! A head of Lacinato Kale went into the Vitamix and was blended with water. I added Blueberries, Peanut Butter, Banana and Soy Milk. Gary isn’t eating chocolate because he is avoiding caffeine. I poured off about half of it into a glass for him and then added Cacao Nibs to the rest. I tried to divide it up evenly but I ended up with more.
Then we were off to the hospital again for the night shift, watching my dad.