I only have experience working in a hospital in the US and now in Guyana, but I’m almost sure that it’s a universal truth that nobody wants to eat hospital food. There’s a terrible stigma of hospital kitchens. It’s certainly not everyone’s favorite place to eat on a Friday night. But what about the people that have no other choice?
If I didn’t understand it then, I understand it now just how important it is for hospitals to provide nutritious meals that support the health of patients. But like most things, I’m learning that executing such an obvious statement is much harder than one might think. Hospitals in the US face their own set of problems, but what about the problems of a developing country? You don’t always have the technology, the resources, or the capacity to support nutrition, let alone basic health, in a hospital.
What do you do when you haven’t seen a single fruit pass through the kitchen in months? Or you get barrels of eggplant and pounds of flour, but not enough greens to last until the next delivery? Or say you do get bundles of greens, but the poor ventilation in the kitchen and the only dysfunctional storage units you have leave the them to spoil before they can be used?
When you live in a country where food is more of a means of survival than it is a courtesy (or in some cases a demand), the expectations change. You serve what you have because anything is better than nothing. And sometimes that something is… well… some kind of gray soup. But can I blame them?
Helping this hospital figure out how to work within their limitations and provide meals as nutritious as possible is where I come in.
For the last three months, I’ve been trying to understand how food moves from the farms in Guyana to the plates of the patients. This includes how food is ordered, purchased, and delivered to kitchens; how diets are communicated from the patient to the cooks; and lastly how the meals are prepped and served. Only a couple days ago was I able to put it all together. Now begins the part we identify where education, training, or a slight suggestion is needed. I’m quickly realizing that it isn’t as simple as cutting down on the salt.
I wrestled a lot with wanting this project. Thinking back to my experiences working as a Diet Tech and the nightmares I had from it… I didn’t want to step foot into another hospital kitchen. But when I walked through the wards the other day and saw the helpless suffering of so many peoples in one place, I was reminded why what happens in a kitchen matters.
I think about what food means to me when I’m sick and how a good meal sometimes makes all the difference in the pain I’m experiencing. Didn’t you appreciate it when someone brought you a bowl of chicken noodle soup to make you feel better? You feel loved, you feel taken care of, and you feel like you have one less thing to worry about. You might feel like you’re dying, but at least the food isn’t killing you.
And that’s how it should be.
A doctor I interviewed earlier this week put it perfectly, “People come to a hospital to heal. It doesn’t make sense to serve them food that doesn’t help them do that.”
My project is complicated and complex and certainly not a task I can tackle in a few weeks. Not even a few months. But I’m willing and determined to help push this hospital in the right direction as far as I can in my two years. Alongside some passionate doctors, a handful of cooks, and an amazing counterpart that are up to the challenge… little by little we’re going to see change from plate to patient.