Skin Problems Of A Different Kind
With cognitive decline as my focus, if the title of this entry makes you reflect on acne or eczema, you will be disappointed in what is to follow! I said “of a different kind!”
With hubby’s condition has come OCD. I wrote about this in the chapter titled “O.C.D. and Me” which was chapter #36. Here we are at chapter #72 and the issue has not gone away. When something Hubby does, makes me laugh…I find myself wanting to share it.
One wonderful little pill has made it possible for Hubby to enjoy his food again. He no longer experiences nausea when looking at food or eating. The strange mixture of pills in his tummy result in a low level of nausea, and this miracle pill counteracts it. So critical – no food means no health, no survival. Eating is one of the fundamental pleasures of life. Take that away along with everything else that comes with aging and dementia, and there isn’t much joy to be found.
Having said that, I cannot find a cure for Hubby’s OCD. It has new manifestations. No, he did not have OCD for the first forty years of our marriage. He loved unusual foods, and ate everything with great gusto.
Last night the two of us were on our own and I made a simple meal, but a good one. Brown-sugar/mustard glazed fresh salmon fillets, Asian rice mix, and fresh broccoli with my mother’s miraculous dressing of mayo and mustard, which I suddenly remembered from childhood. Nice colors: Peach salmon, golden rice and green broccoli. Ah yes, also coral colored mango chunks. Color matters to dementia patients. They eat better with something colorful on the plate. Tomato ketchup is a great addition to a plate for beige meals, as is cranberry sauce, but not tonight.
Hubby likes the salmon cooked this way. He loves anything sweet. Tonight however, he is taking forever to eat the salmon, picking at it mercilessly. Finally he proclaims:
“The skin is disgusting. You know I do not eat skin!” Oops, I forgot to remove the skin from the fillet. I do remember to peel the persimmons, the potatoes, the apples, the chicken, the cucumbers, and anything else which has the nerve to grow with an outer layer. Never mind that salmon skin is the tastiest part of the fillet. Never mind that salmon skin rolls adorn every sushi menu across the globe.
“My mother never served me a meal like this!”
That is Hubby’s ultimate insult about a meal he is not pleased with.
Please do not start raving about your mother’s food, let’s just eat.
“Don’t speak badly about Mama! She was wonderful. I adored her!”
I am not speaking badly about her, enough discussion.
“What did she ever do to you that you should be disrespectful?!”
He is really unhappy with me. It is all because of the skin that I forgot to remove. His mother could not afford to serve salmon in the old days, it was a “meat and potatoes” existence (although there was very little meat to be had during WWII), with chicken thrown in for good measure on a Friday night. Hubby used to recount stories of when he was a child. He would walk long distances to his aunt’s home because she had an egg to make for him. World War II brought food scarcity and rationing. A childhood of poverty and an enormous appetite helped to mold the man who would spend the rest of his life ensuring that he would never be hungry again.
“What kind of meal is this you served me? Since when do I eat ‘chicken’ with skin!!??” He is of course still referring the salmon which has apparently morphed into another creature.
I surrender to the moment. My imperfections have caught up with me.
