putting the die in diet
I don't remember the day they put the angry old man on a low-sodium and low-fluid diet, but I do remember what followed: a lament that he couldn't survive on restaurant food anymore, an admission of a complete inability to cook and goddammit he wasn't gonna start now, and patient care workers suggesting things like Meals On Wheels and Better Meals. I also remember being thankful that it wasn't me who was getting the restrictions, because sodium and fluids were two things that I loved, especially paired together.
I remember the day the doctor came into my room, noted the salt packet I'd been saving for lunch or maybe dinner, and asked me if I liked my salt. When I answered in the affirmative, he immediately put me on a low-sodium, low-fluid diet. I also remember what followed: A steady stream of blander hospital food, with only an awful blend of Mrs. Dash for flavouring. I ate as much as I could stomach and hoped for release back into the real world that had real food and no real restrictions. I began fantasizing about the meals I would have.
When I finally did get released, I asked the doctor when I could end the low sodium and low fluid diet. His eventual response? Maybe never. It all depended on my body and what it could handle and right now, it couldn't handle much. In fact, it might never be able to handle much again. Maybe one day my doctors would liberalize my allowed intake, but it was going to be 2 grams of salt and 1.5 litres of fluid for the forseeable future.
Oh. Fuck.
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At first, following the diet was easy. Being home all the time allowed me to measure and allot my fluids. One cup of apple juice. Two cups of water. One cup of pop maybe. Two cups of milk. And a hell of a lot of ice cubes to keep my mouth from drying out. The salt shaker was verboten. Meals were small. Naps were often. Anything to keep me from thinking about my fluid and salt cravings. But as I started to move around more and get back to work, my needs were clearly not being met by this plan. Naturally, adjustments were made. I stopped measuring fluids, but didn't stray too far above my limitations. Small glass of juice, big cup of water, can of pop, large glass of milk. As I did research and became able to get out and do more grocery shopping, I started to look at labels and facts, figure out what I couldn't have and make substitutions. But the cravings remained.
As I shuffled back into the world, the cravings intensified. Since I knew I was going to have to give in, I started to do research on things like fast food and snacks. As expected, there were tons of bad choices, few good choices, and some choices that were merely better than the bad choices. We live in a world where 45 ounces of popped corn fresh from the concession stand kettle has less sodium than a large side of fries from the Burger King, and a burger has less sodium than a salad. So you see what I have to deal with when I get too busy or tired to cook.
I saw a dietitian who was somewhat helpful, handing me papers full of recipes and sodium counts and guides to ensure that I got enough protein and calcium. But the problem with dietitians is they favour small portions when generations upon generations have been raised on larges and supersizes. It's nice that she recommends the McDonald's Happy Meal as a good compromise when you're on the go, but that usually isn't gonna dent my hunger.
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As it stands now, I've given up counting millimeters and cups of fluid. But I definitely drink less fluid now than I did before going in the hospital. Naturally, I'm also a little less rigid when it comes to the sodium. I can't always hit the two gram target, but I definitely try to keep it within three. Considering how much salt I used to ingest, it's a vast improvement. But I'm always looking at labels, searching for easy low-sodium recipes and doing research. This is probably why I'm now hungry all the time.
I remember the day the doctor came into my room, noted the salt packet I'd been saving for lunch or maybe dinner, and asked me if I liked my salt. When I answered in the affirmative, he immediately put me on a low-sodium, low-fluid diet. I also remember what followed: A steady stream of blander hospital food, with only an awful blend of Mrs. Dash for flavouring. I ate as much as I could stomach and hoped for release back into the real world that had real food and no real restrictions. I began fantasizing about the meals I would have.
When I finally did get released, I asked the doctor when I could end the low sodium and low fluid diet. His eventual response? Maybe never. It all depended on my body and what it could handle and right now, it couldn't handle much. In fact, it might never be able to handle much again. Maybe one day my doctors would liberalize my allowed intake, but it was going to be 2 grams of salt and 1.5 litres of fluid for the forseeable future.
Oh. Fuck.
--------------------------------------------
At first, following the diet was easy. Being home all the time allowed me to measure and allot my fluids. One cup of apple juice. Two cups of water. One cup of pop maybe. Two cups of milk. And a hell of a lot of ice cubes to keep my mouth from drying out. The salt shaker was verboten. Meals were small. Naps were often. Anything to keep me from thinking about my fluid and salt cravings. But as I started to move around more and get back to work, my needs were clearly not being met by this plan. Naturally, adjustments were made. I stopped measuring fluids, but didn't stray too far above my limitations. Small glass of juice, big cup of water, can of pop, large glass of milk. As I did research and became able to get out and do more grocery shopping, I started to look at labels and facts, figure out what I couldn't have and make substitutions. But the cravings remained.
As I shuffled back into the world, the cravings intensified. Since I knew I was going to have to give in, I started to do research on things like fast food and snacks. As expected, there were tons of bad choices, few good choices, and some choices that were merely better than the bad choices. We live in a world where 45 ounces of popped corn fresh from the concession stand kettle has less sodium than a large side of fries from the Burger King, and a burger has less sodium than a salad. So you see what I have to deal with when I get too busy or tired to cook.
I saw a dietitian who was somewhat helpful, handing me papers full of recipes and sodium counts and guides to ensure that I got enough protein and calcium. But the problem with dietitians is they favour small portions when generations upon generations have been raised on larges and supersizes. It's nice that she recommends the McDonald's Happy Meal as a good compromise when you're on the go, but that usually isn't gonna dent my hunger.
--------------------------------------
As it stands now, I've given up counting millimeters and cups of fluid. But I definitely drink less fluid now than I did before going in the hospital. Naturally, I'm also a little less rigid when it comes to the sodium. I can't always hit the two gram target, but I definitely try to keep it within three. Considering how much salt I used to ingest, it's a vast improvement. But I'm always looking at labels, searching for easy low-sodium recipes and doing research. This is probably why I'm now hungry all the time.