It’s Feeding Time

Have you ever taken note of how people eat? The next time you are sitting around a dinner table just take a few moments to quietly observe the differences in people’s eating habits. You will be surprised. They may be subtle – but actually quite noticeable if you really look.

I am acutely aware of these distinctive variations – not because I make a habit of watching people when they eat but because I am dependent on others to feed me. There is often a tendency for people to feed me as they would a child.

I remember the first time I was at a dinner party after my accident. It was a close friend’s birthday so everyone was eager to help. It was good to be out with friends – and I felt safe. Although, they were all supportive and sympathetic I could see that it was tough for them too. This was all new to us. None of us knew how to handle a quadriplegic. I don’t think we even knew what a quadriplegic was – yet. They all seemed to be depending on me to tell them what to do. I had no idea either. Eight weeks before I had been among the very same group of friends and there was no quadriplegic in sight. What now? I desperately just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. But, I knew – we all knew – that things would never be the same again.

 One of my friends quietly offered to dish up for me and feed me. I was grateful that she didn’t make a big fuss about it. I hate to be the centre of attention.  I looked on in horror as she brought my plate back to the table. All the food (including the bread) had been cut up into tiny little blocks. The food now looked totally unappetizing – and nothing like I had imagined when the delicious aromas filled the air moments before. Silently, I stole a glance around the table.  The food on my plate bore no resemblance to the mouth-watering meals I saw on everyone else’s plate.

At that moment I felt just like a two-year-old.  It’s no wonder I struggled to get Chad to eat sometimes when he was a toddler. I realized then that I had been trying to entice him to eat something that didn’t even look like food.

Although I was disappointed, I never said a word. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. But, I remember feeling so despondent and wondering if this is what my life is going to be like? Needless to say I ate my food with long teeth that day.

I soon came to realise that I needed to teach people to still treat me like an adult. I very quickly learnt to tell people what I wanted and how I wanted them to do it. I still have what I call “verbal independence”. My friends and family will tell you though, that is just a fancy word for me being bossy.

I don’t consider myself to be an exceptionally fussy or finicky eater but I most certainly do have my preferences and individual tastes just like everybody else.

Out of habit, people tend to feed me the way they like to feed themselves.

The “Feeder’s” preferences are usually unintentionally imposed upon me. They usually serve my food according to their own personal tastes. I find that if the “Feeder” does not like olives (for example) then they will naturally push them aside. I love olives!

I find myself constantly being subjected to the “Feeder’s” scrutiny, comments or judgment. I cannot secretly eat the skin of the chicken or the crispy fat of a pork chop without a health-conscious “Feeder” looking on in disgust and saying “Do you really want to eat that?” Er…um, yeah!

If the “Feeder” dishes up something I do not like, I             chance having to offend someone by declaring that I don’t particularly like eating that.  At risk of sounding even more like a real spoilt brat, I have to admit that I miss being able to hide my peas under the gemsquash. I hate peas!

Then, some “Feeders” have annoying habits which appall me but I am seldom brave enough to tell them directly – for fear of hurting their good intentions. Although most voluntarily wash their hands before feeding me, some lick their fingers whilst touching my food. Yuck! Those with young children often test the temperature of the food by touching it to their lips which seems perfectly acceptable if one is doing it for one’s own child. Then they tend to blow on my food to cool it down. Never mind the fact that I detest eating cold food. Others pick off my plate which is why I prefer to be fed after everyone else but usually people always insist – out of genuine compassion and care – that they help me first – another reason for me to feel like a child.

It annoys me if the “Feeder” is not well known to me and insists on sharing my fork. It frustrates me if they are unable to use the utensils on the table. And, I hate to have food messed on my clothing.

Sheesh, I’m not sure anyone is ever going to be willing to be my “Feeder” ever again after all these confessions. Help!

Eating in a public place can be very disconcerting at times. Have you ever been gawked at whilst trying to enjoy a plate of food in a restaurant? Who needs diet pills?

For many months after my accident I avoided eating out in public. I know people (in general) do not intentionally mean to make me feel uncomfortable. But, often their curiosity gets the better of them and they probably don’t even realise that they are staring.

I remember the exact moment that I made a conscious decision not to allow the ignorance of others and their intent looks to bother me anymore – although I later learned that was easier said than done.

It was an end-of-the-month Friday evening.  Our favourite restaurant was busy as usual with a vibey, carefree atmosphere. There was an audible hush as our party was shown to the only vacant table right in the middle of the patio – something I usually avoided at all costs. That night there were no quiet tables available on the sidelines. I didn’t want to create more of a spectacle by making a scene and refusing the table. Besides, I could barely maneuver my wheelchair in that cramped environment – let alone turn around. But, I wished more than anything, right then, that the earth would swallow me up so I could quietly disappear.

Anyway, I hid my distress – as usual – behind my ever smiling mask and I attempted to enjoy the evening.

Soon after we began eating I was aware that some people kept on looking in our direction. One particular group was conspicuously turning around and some were even pointing. I felt so humiliated.

I was about to give up on my meal when I glanced down at my plate – the food looked delicious. I lifted my head defiantly, smiled directly back at all the staring eyes and chose to enjoy the rest of my dinner.

What I have learned is that each individual has a uniquely personal relationship with food – if you think about it.  Although eating is usually a practice shared socially among others, it remains a distinctively intimate experience between you and your plate of food.

Bite-size, pace, manner and approach to eating differs from person to person –remarkably so.  I know that most adults associate being fed with an occasional (or frequent) romantic encounter as a couple originating in all sorts of erotic thoughts and fantasies.

So, you may not understand my frustration with this feeding thing unless you have been in a position where you need to be fed – every meal, every single day for the rest of your life. Think about it!

I have no choice. I either starve or make peace with it.

About Tracy Todd

Although I need a wheelchair to get around, it is most certainly NOT what defines my essence as a woman. I am also a mother, teacher, wannabe writer and an inspirational speaker with a positive outlook on life.
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9 Responses to It’s Feeding Time

  1. robertlendvai says:

    This was a very helpful (and funny) post. Now that I’ve started feeding Tracy (no not you) on a regular basis, I can totally see how my biases and preferences effect the way I’ve been feeding her. Tracy was “uber bossy” as an able-bodied person, but we all need to cut her a ton of slack in her new life as a quadriplegic. I’ve been slowing working my way through your posts and they’ve really helped to open my eyes on what lies ahead for my sister-in-law.

  2. Bill Watson says:

    What an interesting statement you made with your smile.

  3. Deborah says:

    Hi Tracy – I first read this a while ago and it has stayed in my head ever since; I just read it again. I kept thinking about how I would feel if someone blew on my food before I ate it, or touched it to their lips to see if it was too hot. And so difficult, as you say, to tell them not to! It’s good to see that you’ve influenced at least some training programmes (Ina, above).

    I also read your moving post about Christopher Reeve and the effect his life and death had on you. I watched a documentary about him a while back when he was still alive (so sad that he and his wife are now both dead). I think he was a genuinely courageous person, as are you.x

  4. Martin says:

    Ey Tracy

    Hmmm like your style girl….

    1.) Hate my food cold
    2.) Don’t give me baby size bites
    3.) Don’t mix my food on the fork
    4.) Touch my olives and you’ll plead for mercy
    5.) Give me the fat … colestarol is the last thing on my mind.
    6.) Bring the fork to my mouth my neck only extends that far.
    7.) Never say ewwww to anything I eat.
    8.) Don’t rush me I enjoy to taste my food.

    Some of my points

    Greetz
    Martin

  5. Tracy, thank you so much for sharing this fascinating reflection on the culture of eating. As the mom of two young boys, I have to stop and think more about how my own attitude toward food and eating must rub off on them as I feed them. I suppose it’s no surprise how eating habits are often passed down from parent to child.

  6. Ina Bence says:

    Hi Tracy,

    This is an eye opener for a lot of health care professionals also, will include it in my training programs.

    Love
    Ina

  7. Hi Tracy, this post, unlike any other, reminds me of how much autonomy I take for granted. Thank you for that. Your perspective is healing to those who have so much and don’t appreciate it.

  8. Tracy – eating is such a personal habit and one that we don’t think about most of the time. When I moved to the US a few years ago, I was amazed that Americans tend to cut up there food and mush it together before eating. It is a gift for you to share your perspective on something that seems so normal and unremarkable to most people.

    I’m with you on the pork chops as well – i once appalled a friend by leaning over the table to grab their cast off fatty end and devour it. I suppose it is horses for courses.

    Phil

  9. Gavin says:

    Oh Tracy, this is such a cool post🙂 I love the way you give an adult perspective on how a toddler must feel when we “feed” them. I have never thought of it like that.

    I must say I am SO with you on the peas! The olives? mmm you can have those, yuck!

    I would never be able to ask my boys to feed you, especially pasta…….No no no, could not do that to you. They would feed you the way they eat, head in the plate and SUCK!! hahaha
    Picturing you now, face covered in pasta sauce.😉

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