"Brown toast again!"

I'm currently a patient on ward 727 of the Queen Elizabeth's Hospital in Birmingham. Today I requested for breakfast cornflakes, white toast, butter, raspberry jam, and a yoghurt. Instead I received rice crispies, brown toast, margarine, and a random selection of jam. No yoghurt. All of the substitutions and omissions were as a result of the ward running out of stock of the thing in question. I'm nearly in the last bed on the ward and so they always reach us last. My entire bay frequently goes without their choice of toast, or any toast at all, as well as yoghurt, and we frequently have to choose a different cereal. Clearly, the ward needs to order more white bread and yoghurt. There are sick people on this ward who want to eat food that they are being denied. This may not sound terribly important, I would therefore like to dedicate the rest of this story to explaining why it is important.

Firstly, omission of food. I wanted a yoghurt this morning and did not receive one. I have been fairly ill for three years, acutely ill for two weeks, and am soon to have fairly major surgery. The doctors have asked me to eat as much as I can and to build up my strength. They even sent a dietitian to see me, as well as prescribing special milkshakes, which are presumably not cheap. Failing to properly feed the patients is actually a failure of clinical practice. If the NHS cannot afford to give me a yoghurt in the morning, or only half the patients can have yoghurts, better to make this clear. I have few visitors and have to get extra food from the hospital shop, which is offensively expensive (that is for a different post). I'm not the only patient on this bay whose clinical plan includes weight gain and running out of breakfast is clearly not conducive to this aim.

Secondly, substitution of food. This seems even less important and, of course, it is. Who cares that I had brown toast? Well, actually, I care, and the hospital should, too. We patients are not passive recipients of magical cures, or, at least, I'm not. I am having to choose daily to engage in healthy behaviours in order to get the best outcome for the surgery (remembering, of course, that a surgery with a good outcome is better for me and cheaper for the NHS). The medication I am taking is making me diabetic. This is actually pretty hard to manage without a well stocked fridge and with one shop downstairs selling mainly overpriced garbage. Patients in hospital are frequently in pain, nauseous, bored, frightened, tired, sleep deprived, and more besides. We need to motivate ourselves to behave in a healthy way. White toast puts a smile on my face and makes it that bit easier to walk up and down the ward and eat properly like the doctors have told me to.

So, please, no more brown toast!