Today I managed a feat which had seemed impossible. I went from this
in a single morning. There was an urgent need for a proper, sit-down family Sunday lunch, and so I knuckled down and just cleared the decks. There has been a bit of a cheat: the piles of paperwork, unfiled resources, post-it notes etc etc have just been stacked on the bench between the table and the wall, but never mind. The four of us, my father, my husband, my daughter and I, were all able to "sit-at-table" and eat our lunch in a civilised manner.
We had to evict the cat first... she had been curled up on the chair at the end, steadfastly ignoring all the kerfuffle.
Normally we eat on our laps in the sitting end of the room, watching television. Shock horror, what a terrible example. Well, maybe, maybe not. We are all grownups now, so we can choose how we live our lives. And at least we are all eating the same food, and the same time, in the same room. That's pretty sociable, in my book.
Eating in the hospital is a different affair. Five of the six beds are occupied, by patients with very different needs and abilities. Only two ladies are given plates of food, by catering staff who greet them by name. One tucks in with gusto, the other struggles to manage the spoon and is very slow. I suspect the nursing staff will help her later, but want her to try and become more adept first. One lady is always asleep, one is on fluids only, and my mother is NBM. The contrast, between the isolated mealtimes of the five patients on the ward, and our own, sociable, convivial Sunday lunch is extreme.