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| - September 1, 2011 will always be known to me as the day I had surgery. Due to a birth defect, my left kidney was enlarged and obstructed in two places. The surgery corrected this life-threatening issue.
The days that followed will live in my memory for other reasons--such as being the first time I ever spat out a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich. I had a three-inch incision on the left side of my abdomen. After being allowed only clear liquids and intravenous vitamins and minerals for 48 hours, the only thing in my mind that would make me feel human again was a meal. And I thought anything would have tasted appetizing.
Two mornings after surgery, my family was visiting and we wanted lunch. I scanned the various choices. Three words caught my eye like a nurse with a needle: Cheese Steak Hoagie. I quickly smiled with pleasure, messing up a cheezesteak sandwich is impossible, right?
As the hours passed, my hunger grew, finally, the only thought in my mind was how wonderful that Cheese Steak Hoagie would be. My mouth began to water as the thought of lunch filled my mind. As the smell of real food stopped in front of my door, I quickly sat up and cleared off the small table at my bedside. A delightful atmosphere filled the room as dad carried in the treasures. My stomach growled louder as the food was within reaching distance. All I could think about was the Cheeze Steak I was about to devour.
I hurriedly unwrapped my meal, anticipating the mouth-watering sandwich. I lifted the sandwich and took a large bite. As I began to chew, my hunger quickly subsided as the flavor hit my tongue. While I looked around the tray for a napkin, my mother, who had been by my side since arriving at the hospital, knew something was wrong by the expression that came upon my face. The napkin became home to the only bite of lunch I ate.
"Mom, that is the worst thing I have ever tasted," I said as I rinsed my mouth out with juice. "It's worse than the medicine," a horrible liquid I had received just before entering the operating room.
My mother assured me that my intravenous pain killers and other medicines were the cause of the disgusting taste. To prove her wrong, I made her try it. She pulled off a small portion of the sandwich and began chewing. All of a sudden, the same disturbing look that had come over me consumed her. She quickly grabbed another napkin and spat out the bite, apologizing and admitting how horrible the meal tasted.
My appetite had disappeared like a doctor being paged. The most memorable meal of my life is one I couldn't allow myself to eat.
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