One of the definite advantages of growing old is that you get to cash in on all the health insurance premiums you have paid throughout your lifetime. Another advantage is that in old age you get to experience a whole lot more diverse a group of medical practitioners. No more do you merely visit a general practitioner who has all the cures for common ailments well organized in her/his repertoire.

That’s right. You get to meet a diverse group of medical people and diversity is our strength. Great strengthening experiences coming.

The people who replace cataract ruined eye lenses are not the same ones who do root canals and replace teeth. The joint replacement people are not interested in deaf ears. The Alzheimer’s people do not also amputate diseased body parts, and so on. That’s diversity.

Another valuable advantage is that you get to visit several medical facilities. The advantage there is that you get to experience a great diversity of cooking and meals. And this advantage is the subject of today’s discussion.

I have spent a great part of the last year enjoying the afore mentioned great advantages. First I want to point out that all of the food service facilities I dealt with did great jobs especially considering that they cannot use flavor-enhancing items such as salt and they are forced to deal with cranky old ‘phartz’ like me. I can also say that none of them can get a fresh crispy slice of toast to any customer.

The toast problem is a hold over from the Revolutionary War when bread was scarce. The practice was to steam the toast until it was soggy and tasteless. The soldiers would not ask for it thereby saving bread. Today they use a cute little plastic dome over the food to accomplish the same thing---steam the toast until it has all the appeal of a warm wet sponge.

So we go into this food services rating operation much as we would go into the Olympic Games. Everyone is very good. Everyone has a flaw. We are dealing only with possible medal winners. As a tease to keep you reading, I will announce the winner at the end of today’s lesson.

Since several occupants of the facilities have various medical procedures going on, the only time anyone can find a particular patient is at mealtime. It works like this: You get your meal. You fool around fifteen minutes prying open the steely packaging the milk and condiments come in. You are finally ready for the first bite. Suddenly twelve doctors with stethoscopes show up on one side followed by fifteen nurses with needles on the other. In between acts, half a dozen pill rollers come in. Diversity at its best.

In my own experience I was to ingest a potassium pill. The pill pusher thoughtfully ground up this odd tasting football size item in a pile of apple sauce. In order to properly describe the taste of this culinary wonder, I would need a bunch of four letter words that haven’t been invented yet. And this mess is handed to me just as I was eating a dessert made of pound cake and fruit that was heavenly. Tell about diversity. Wow!

So I hit the pill person over the head with my cane. Her dog bit me so I strangled it. Then the cops came and hauled me before a group of head shrinks who decided that potassium drives people crazy. Now the New York State Government is considering making this combination a legal recreational drug.

The bright side of this whole episode is that I have decided to become a health care facility food service rater much like the folks who go around rating restaurants. The restaurant raters use the fork as a rating symbol. One fork, two forks, one and a half forks, etc. I would use the IV bag as the symbol. One bag, two and a half bags, etc.

Attention hospital management folks. If you want me to rate your food service, give me a call. You merely need to provide the ambulance, wheel chairs, port-a-potties, walkers, canes, meals and a healthy stipend. Also there can be no physical therapy people in the building while I am there.

Oh yes. The winner this time out.

CPH. Rating: four bags minus toast.

Thank you all for keeping me alive.

Merry Christmas.

William C. Lewis

Brasher Falls