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 ( Read more... )

Regular readers of this journal know that I loves me some fast food fried chicken. Since there's a KFC no more than three blocks away from my apartment, I've learned to love KFC. In fact, that location is usually crazy busy, with or without the coupons that regularly appear in my mailbox. On Toonie Tuesday, the day where you can get two pieces and ( Read more... )

Dear Colonel Sanders ( Read more... )

You know it's serious when your doctor--not a nurse or a receptionist--calls you ( Read more... )

The 7th floor nurses know how to treat a patient right. As soon as I arrived on the floor and was wheeled into the reading room, I was offered crackers and apple juice. Since I was hungry for the first time in what seemed like ever, I took advantage of the offer--even going for seconds. Hey, get hungry enough and those packets of unsalted Premium ( Read more... )

Dad fell and tore a hole in his pants, so I met up with him at the Mark's Work Warehouse in Kingsgate Mall. After a whirlwind shopping trip that consisted of picking up two new pairs of pants, trying on a few pairs of work boots, and learning how to swipe his bank card, we needed to find somewhere to eat. After a bit of debate, we opted for Vera's ( Read more... )

As soon as I got to the bus stop, I phoned my dad. It was time. It wasn't just the hells of taking transit and manouvering a folded-up cart through a slim aisle and a rear door thick with idiots. Nor was it the joys of navigating Oakridge, trying to get past all the Sunday slugs en route to Safeway so I could get the damn loss leaders already. And ( Read more... )