here's something for you all

Eating. Right after they drained me I had an appetite, well maybe around 8:00 it fully surfaced. After getting beaten up by surgery (not complaining about it, but after all the poking and prodding in my side it does become a physical ordeal) or the surgical procedure, I don’t even know what to call it, if it’s not knock you out surgery, I tend to knock it down to a procedure, medical expert that I am… anyway, suddenly at 6:00 they dump the food on me. Whoa whoa whoa, this way too early. Plus I usually eat at 8:00. Excuses excuses goes my wife’s voice in the background. So 8:00 comes around and I am hungry and they drop a tepid tray on me. Well, what did I expect, it is two hours later. So I try to choke down for the first time in my life cooled off food. There’s dish of radish and bits of meat I nearly work down to the bottom of the bowl, pickled cabbage and others, already cold, I have an easy time with, semi sweet peas, which I save for last because they are kind of like desert, and half of an egg dish I had never touched before. The rice I can barely touch because it’s all gooey and wet, I mean it’s supposed to be, probably good for digestion, but all the same, it kind of disgusts. I do the best I can with that and that’s it. I realize I have failed and apologize to the nurse because it was my damn fault for being tepid. She apologizes for not controlling time and space I guess.

That was last night. I would have an appetite for one more meal.

I was hungry going into breakfast, I remember writing thinking damn, hurry up with that food I’m hungry. For some reason I don’t remember the meal clearly. There was that ricey stuff which I was able to eat as long as there was furikake on it (my spell check turned what is essentially a powdery topping to fruitcake) more tsukemono stuff (pickled stuff), no problem, the rest I can’t remember. There was milk. I must’ve enjoyed it. I had to stop myself many times, pull back, because I was eating too fast. And except for the rice I think I ate it all. Felt it taxing me at the end, even drinking the milk was a bit of a challenge. My stomach went on gurgling, bubbles dancing around like they did during the operation… I haven’t been hungry since. 

I ate a banana for lunch, 80% of one. For dinner under my wife’s eyes—I basically made my sleepy wife sit on the bed so it would be more fun that way—I tried to finish a couple croquettes pretty much ignoring the rest. 70, 80% maybe, and I had the croquette taste in my mouth for hours after, which I tasted when I felt like vomiting. I didn’t, but felt like it on and off, though only in minor key, I wasn’t nauseas or anything, but I wasn’t feeling the greatest either. I thought, okay, I tried, I failed, I know by Japanese standards I failed, and I am willing to accept those standards hold on me, so I failed. Later I talked to my wife about hoping this was only temporary, the ordeal of the procedure, my stomach not settling yet.

She wasn’t buying it. She told me not to go into detail or excuses about eating again. All she thinks is kue. This means eat, but it is the most direct form, strongest. I’m not complaining about this, lamenting maybe, wish my wife could be more understanding, but whatever. I live in Japan, I have made my home here for over 12 years. I know how important eating is, it’s probably the center of Japanese life. It goes beyond eating all your food, it’s having that go for broke gusto for food. I once got to be a part of that in a minor way when I went up to an isolated country spot in Nagano with some friends. It was New Years, as the only foreigner they had probably seen in a while they really rolled it out for me. I was stuffed by the end of the osechi, Japanese New Years food, and then we went down the block a bit for a place famous for its soba. I got that much. It seemed as if they wanted me to eat it. But when we arrived I was treated to a plate of barbecued meat (don’t remember what kind it was, but it was good, I remember that). I ate it all up thinking, hey this is good and I don’t think I’m ready for a plate of soba (um, Japanese buckwheat noodles) anyway. 

And then the plate of soba arrived. 

During the ordeal of eating, though I like soba and it’s easy to eat so this was important, they kept saying you can stop at any time, it’s okay. I didn’t. I think if it was any other food but noodles I wouldn’t be up for the job, but with soba, hours after being stuffed, I was able to slide in the last strands. Everything. Much later in the car, my friends told me I made their family really happy. It was one of the happiest moments of the trip for me too. Naturally I haven’t lived up to the promise of that moment, the closest I come is overeating at all-you-can eat type deals. So like I say, I buy into this, I have accepted it. And I’m an abysmal failure at it. And worse, I won’t eat till I’m vomiting over the table like Mr. Creosote and I have finished my meal. Okay a bit of sarcasm slipping out on that last one, but it’s also what my wife wants me to do. It don’t matter what, finish everything on your plate. 

So what do you think? Your honest opinion. I didn’t write this for a bouquet of sympathy. Naturally my writing is going to skew towards my view no matter how fair I try to be, fair and balanced right? I am curious to know who feels you finish up everything on your plate, and who feels stop when you feel full and anything in between. If you can’t post a reply, which seems to be difficult, and I’m sorry for being such a technical ditz I don’t know what to do about it, you can always email me directly.