A Hospital Story

I worked in food service in a hospital for a year or so. It was a true eye-opener. I worked in the cafeteria, as well as assembling and delivering patient's meals. Yes, I was the funny little lady in the hairnet who fetches your tray.

There was one teen who had been a patient there for quite a while. No matter what dressing we sent up for his salad, his mom would come asking for "ranch." I finally figured out the connection between the mom and the tray, and started sending up ranch dressing instead of whatever was the "dressing du jour." The kitchen boss called me to task for it, saying something to the effect that the boy was much too spoiled and should be willing to eat whatever he was given. I hope she felt really bad when I pointed out that the kid had cancer. The room across the hall from him had been taken over by his large, extended family, and they were in and out all the time. One day I got to work, and there was nobody there. He had died. He was only 17. I'm glad I gave him the ranch dressing.