Op Note XXXVII
After surgery she had a lot of questions. Mostly to do with eating. Can I have milk? Can I have cheese? Can I eat a salad? What about meat? Fried or grilled? When can I have nuts again? Or fruit? Ones with seeds? Bananas that are still a little green? Should I cut my carrots into dimed slivers? Popcorn without butter? Popcorn with butter? Mushrooms. Beef jerky. Cereals with marshmallows. Cereals that turn the color of the milk aquamarine. Chocolate covered cherries. Chocolate covered strawberries. Chocolate dripped into my mouth like candle wax. A hot candle next to my leg. The taste of tiramisu on a lover’s tongue. The last night of my honeymoon. Knowing it would never last. Can I eat that? After assuring her of the necessity of these dietary modifications I happened to look down and noticed her plate had been picked clean. Except for a thin syrupy sheen. I’d eaten everything else. I can’t help myself. She didn’t seem to mind. Didn’t like hospital food. Nevertheless she complained of a deep gnawing hunger.