My grandfather loves to eat. It’s one of his cardinal passions. He’s been such a good sport over the last few weeks, going to the hospital, sitting home with me during my sickness. Luckily for him, I love to bake, and everyone needs a cake made for them once in a while. This recipe is a tested winner. The cake is moist like you would not believe, and the frosting is truly decadent- a perfect compliment to the subtle flavor of the base. Mmm.
I went to the hospital the day before yesterday to get my face checked out (it’s inexplicably swollen to the point where I look like I might fucking float away + flu conditions). I waited in the lobby for 2 hours to be told in 2 minutes that I have a normal viral infection and that I should take lots of tylenol and advil. She practically patted me on the head. Don’t cause a stir, just go along home. I really don’t care about the individual, have a nice day. She left without explaining my swelling, my eye sensitivity, or why I feel like utter shit even after taking a handful of pills. Yeah whatever. Then another nurse came in to get me to sign paperwork saying that I was satisfied with the treatment I was given. -_-
Anyway. I’ll live. I would have liked to know what the hell I’ve had a reaction to, but I guess that’s too much trouble for the mighty Doctor.
The real point of me writing this was actually to comment on the decline of mankind. Oops, silly me. Where was I? Ah yes: had I gotten hungry or thirsty while waiting for the tender touch of a medical professional- I could have chosen from a variety of high quality products right out of the vending machine. A heart attack receptacle. Do NOT get me wrong, though. I’m not a fucking junk food prude. But doesn’t it strike you somewhat backwards that the only food option in the lobby encourages patients to refuel on chocolate and soda before having their pulse taken and heart listened to?
