Finicky Eating Habits

Wednesday, 14 June 2006

Over the course of the past year, I've become accustomed to "the routine" with my dad, that which includes how to properly transfer him from his bed to the wheelchair, the wheelchair to the recliner chair, the wheelchair to the car, how he likes his face scrubbed in the shower, how he likes to save water and you have to turn off he water when scrubbing his body, how you need to make sure his left elbow isn't squashed between his leg and the chair, how he likes one pillow under each leg and a pillow under his neck when reclined in the chair. All of these things have become new habits for him since having this illness. Although sometimes his habits change, I adjust as he adjusts, for it is important to me that he is comfortable. You take for granted what it might be like in your own life to be fully mentally capable, but to be fully physically incapable, to have no control over your own muscles or limbs, to fully rely on another person 24/7 for any sort of movement. Imagine holding yourself still, like a ragdoll, without even the ability to curl your toes or stretch your back, and that's what my dad feels like all the time. Even a mosquito flying in front of your nose or on your hand can be the most irritating thing, when you know you have no ability to hit it or swat it away. When a stray hair falls on your face and tickles your nose, you can't move it until someone else moves it for you.

For several months now, we've been spoon feeding my dad, as his fingers can no longer grip utensils and he has lost his torso equilibrium to bring his body to the fork ,or vice versa. He loves eating won tun min, Chinese soup with noodles, which is one of the more difficult things to feed him. You become accustomed to how the person likes to eat. If I were feeding myself, I would like the "perfect bite", a little bit of noodles, veggies, and soup in one scoopful into my mouth. My dad, however, likes everythiing separate. Put the noodles into his mouth using the fork, not the spoon. Then, put in some veggies. Then, not one, not two, but three separate spoonfuls of soup, one right after the other. And, finally, don't blow on his food if you think it's hot, because he doesn't want your germs.

Today, he suddenly changed his habits and in turn, told me I need to change mine. In the past, when I've scooped noodles into his mouth, I 've held the fork under his mouth, in the event that if noodles inadvertantly break or fall, they will land back on the fork rather than on his legs. But, today, the dangling fork seemed to bother him, and he would shake his head from side to side, noodles dangling from his mouth, splashing soup all around, as he didn't want that extra fork support. "Why? I questioned. I've always done that before. I just don't want the noodles to fall." He argued that the noodles will fall right back into the bowl themselves. So, let them be. Well, his stubbornness won, and I let him be.

From then on, I scooped a forkful of noodles into his mouth and let them dangle all the way to his chin, as he slurped them up. As the excess soup splashed around and noodles fell into the bowl below, i just rolled my eyes, but accepted that sometimes you need to ignore what YOU think is the right way to do things, and allow the patient to be comfortable and happy.....even if it means it's more a mess for me to clean up because now there is soup all over his face and legs.