A Cornucopia of Processed Corn
“A Cornucopia of Processed Corn” was my first creative writing piece. It was featured in MURMURS, the Creative Journal of Yale Health Professions Students.
The piece can be found here. The motivation for this came from a few observations. First, I started noticing that a lot of the food available to patients in the hospital are not particularly healthy. Second, junky food makes it harder for the body to recover from illness or maintain and improve wellness. Third, despite junk foods being bad, it feels good to indulge. Especially when your willpower is being consumed by physical or mental pain, your treatment regimen, being in a foregin and sterile new environment, and your body trying to heal itself. Fourth, most hospitals have been experiencing decreasing profit margins and some have recently run at a loss (Yale New Haven Health System lost $240M in 2022 - its first deficit year in 50 years). And, food may be a vector on which they might try to reduce costs to help the hospital stay afloat and provide vital medical care. Fifth, food is medical care just as methotrexate is too and we need to start thinking about it that way. These thoughts and observations were top of mind as I wrote the following piece:
Jello, cookies, and chips. My gut wrenches at the irony of processing all these processed foods.
Soda, candy, and ice cream. Even with all this sugar not a sweet thought crosses my mind.
Sandwiches, salads, and soups. At least that’s what they’re labeled. My patience disintegrates much like my patients’ wellness on this diet.
Our eyes are all fixed to the drips and screens, feasting on the bright monitors, and chewing away at our attention. Peek behind these gluttonous habits and look at what we put in our bodies.
I am neither Lewis nor Clark treading new ground here. Many Cassandras have echoed these thoughts before.
Like an Eternal Flame, the detailed logistics of offering healthy in-patient diets rages on.
Pressed and washed, when we don our business suits, we find that money can be saved by bulk ordering and negotiating contracts with suppliers — how enticing.
Money is needed to run hospitals. At least that what capitalism tells me.
I pretend to be in my patient’s place - sick, tired, and fighting to recover. Being asked to eat fresh greens with no tasty chemicals would be the straw that broke my back. I might as well drink some cola with it.
My willpower to eat healthy flickers on and off with the flu – how could it handle such a serious assault?
It seems unfair to expect of my patients what I likely could not do. A regular dose of hypocrisy is baked into the job description.
Still the thought remains. I dream of beautiful bowls of fresh greens and the mass exodus of junk foods marching out of hospitals.