Hospital Diaries Pt. V
On nostalgia, disability and hospital food.
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If you missed part one of this essay, I recommend you read it first.
My first wheelchair outing from the ward is to Subway in the hospital cafeteria.
Every weekend when I was ten-years-old, my best friend and I would walk to the local strip mall in Calgary for our Saturday ritual. We’d both get a footlong—roasted chicken breast on Italian herb and cheese. Next, we’d head to the Chapters across the sprawling parking lot, order venti Frappuccinos from the attached Starbucks (a vanilla crème for me, caramel for her; extra whip and caramel sauce on both). In the corner of the teen section, we’d sit on the floor eating our subs and sipping our Frappucinos, while flipping through our favourite preteen magazines—Seventeen, J-14, YM.
The only other memorable outings from that time were weekend ventures to my local suburban mall. Because my grandparents didn’t see capitalist indulgence as a valid leisure activity, my disabled mom and I would have to arrange the Handy Bus to pick us up. Once there, I’d charge mom in her wheelchair down the wide corridors, whipping past storefronts modelling the latest belly button-baring, preppy fashions I could never have.
Today, from my own wheelchair in the hospital, the smell of Subway hits me like a wall, transporting me back to this time. I think of that former best friend, how the same illness that put me in this chair drove us apart. And I think of my mom, how disappointed she would be to see how this illness has landed me in the same physical position she was once ashamed to be in.
I can see why it brought her so much shame. From this lower vantage point, I am smaller than everyone around me. People literally have to look down at me to make eye contact. I can’t see the vegetables or sauces for my sub and so I rely on others to tell me my options. I feel rushed deciding while a line forms behind me.
I might be moving at the same pace as everyone around me, but my movement is controlled by someone else; I’m stagnant amidst a whir of activity. I feel shrunk, small, invisible. I remind myself it’s only temporary. But the reassurance only makes me feel worse as I realize this feeling of indignity is permanent for so many; that it defined the final years of my mom’s life.
Riding in the wheelchair became a bit easier with time—each ride meant I was one less away from getting out of the chair. Anything becomes less difficult when we remind ourselves it’s only temporary. When I could walk again, I didn’t feel the urge to run. I was just grateful to be on my own two feet, with legs strong enough to carry me a few steps, it didn’t matter what direction they took me. Where my movement was once hurried and purposeful, it’s now slow and directionless. And that’s okay.
As I’ve said before, real gratitude comes not when you lose something, but when you gain it back. I might not know where I’m heading, but I do know I still have a body that can carry me there.
Best,
Anna
Published 📝
AFAR - 7 Essential Places to Visit in Alberta
As I wrote in today’s Best, a few precious years of my childhood were spent in Canada’s “wild west”—Alberta. While I’m an East Coaster at heart, I do occasionally miss those wide open prairie skies and the rocky mountain views, not to mention dressing up like a cowgirl for free pancakes during the annual Stampede. My latest for AFAR is an essential guide to the province.
While some recommendations are obvious—Banff National Park is a must year round to see Lake Louise, Moraine Lake and the infamous Fairmont Chateau—other destinations are lesser known but equally impressive, like Indigenous experiences at Métis Crossing and encounters with endangered bison and the Northern Lights just east of Edmonton.
Reading 📖
👅 Contemplating the grief thirst trap.
“That Instagram post, however, served a function I hadn’t known I’d needed in bereavement — to tell a story I couldn’t yet say with words. That I was hurting, but still, somehow alive.” - Jean Chen Ho.
🌎 The high cost of living in a disabled world.
🧘♀️ And how the wellness industry specifically is not designed for people with disabilities.
🍴 This Harlem restaurant shows us how “dining rooms might look if all restaurateurs thought about accessibility as a right, rather than a business decision.”
🥔 Canadian hospitals could learn from this Alaskan hospital where Indigenous foods are part of the healing plan.
“I do not believe that people go into a hospital for a gastronomic experience, they’re in a hospital because they’re in pain, and need care. They want comfort foods, foods that someone made for them when they were younger — someone who loved them and made it with love.” -Cynthia Davis
🥯 In a Michigan prison, fried rice on bagels is a commemorative feast used to honour George Floyd.
🔥Remember HOTorNOT? The platform’s “DNA is embedded into almost every major platform that defines how we interact online today.”
🍲 Why we need to stop romanticizing how our grandmothers ate.
“I don’t think many of us crave a return to wartime rationing or mid-century diet culture. A return to home-grown bounty and scratch cooking requires an investment of time and labor from someone.” - Virginia Sole Smith.
📚 It’s been 45 years since Arthur debuted. Where is everyone now?
Watching 📺
A docu-soap that slipped under everyone’s radar last year—Deaf U (Netflix) follows a group of students at a private college for the deaf and hard of hearing in Washington. It would’ve been easy to rely on reality TV tropes or worse, stereotypes of people with disabilities, but instead, Deaf U normalizes disability by treating its subjects with depth and humanity.
It reminds me of another dating show about people with disabilities that I was obsessed with this year—Love On The Spectrum. But here, the nature of the disability makes the experience more immersive—we enter their world of silence at times, relying on subtitles and sign language in the absence of verbal communication.
As someone who grew up around disability, I love that Deaf U and Love On The Spectrum don’t paint all their subjects as heroes. We see cliques form within the deaf community and watch people be mean.
As with any show that hits the note on representation, Deaf U reminds us that we don’t realize what we’re not seeing until we see it. I only wish they talked more about race, since disability representation in Hollywood remains largely white.
Snacking 🍌
What am I eating lately? When it’s a snack, it’s Nature Valley crunchy bars, two bite brownies, and Rice Krispie squares—foods reminiscent of the brown bag lunches I brought to middle school. When it’s a meal, it’s chicken pot pie, breaded filet and potato wedges (on Fish Fridays of course), and the same microwavable meals my mom used to order from Meals on Wheels—foods that bring me back to my childhood. The food I’ve been eating in the hospital is nostalgic, yet I find myself disappointed with every bite. It’s like I expect the food to conjure the exact feelings of comfort and excitement they did all those years ago. But the reality is, my taste buds have matured.
Can the foods we grew up with ever live up to our memory of them? When you eat the foods of your childhood today, do they comfort you? Or is the comfort derived more from the place and people you ate them with? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Thinking of you Anna 💕