What to Eat, How to Serve it. Christine Terhune Herrick

      FOR the invalid there is often no possibility of the slight stimulus to appetite produced by the change of air from one room to another. Breakfast, the hardest meal of the day to many well people, is doubly difficult to one who must eat it in the same room where she has spent the night—perhaps many nights—of feverish restlessness, that has given her a detestation of the bed, the bedroom, and everything connected therewith, chiefest of all being the disgust with herself, the weary, distraught being with aching limbs, heavy head, and ill-tasting mouth.

      When feasible, the invalid should be taken from bed to eat her regular breakfast, previously strengthening her by a cup of beef-tea, of chicken or oyster broth, or a glass of hot milk, or of hot milk and seltzer. First of all, however, the face and hands should be sponged off in tepid water and dried quickly, and the mouth well rinsed out. Then, refreshed and stimulated by this and the warm draught, a little more elaborate toilet may be made, always allowing a few moments for the settling of the stomach after the food before the dressing begins. A more thorough bathing, a combing of the hair, a change of linen, the slipping on of a warm dressing-gown, and the moving to another couch or an easy-chair will not be a prolonged piece of work if the attendant is quick and deft, and has everything in readiness for bath and toilet.

      A great advantage is gained when the invalid can be wheeled or supported into another room, and have a completely changed air and scene in which to take her meal. But when this is impracticable the room should be well aired before the patient is taken out of bed, and as soon as she is established on her couch or in her chair, and this placed as far as possible from the bed, the covers of this should be stripped off and carried from the room. Every piece of cast-off linen, every receptacle containing soiled water, everything that recalls the fact that this is a sleeping-room and that can be removed, should be banished. A screen should be set between the patient and the bed, and if the chamber still seems close, she should be bundled up while another draught of fresh, pure air is allowed to rush into the room. After all this, when a table bearing an attractive breakfast is moved to the invalid's elbow, she is usually quite ready to partake of it.

      In many cases it is out of the question for the patient to leave her bed, and then the coaxing of the appetite is a more difficult task. The very fact of being in bed seems to render eating almost an impossibility to some people. The woman who complained petulantly that everything she ate in bed tasted of the blanket and pillows, only voiced the sentiments of a multitude of her sisters. Among some women, breakfast in bed is esteemed a luxury; but it is one thing to take it there from choice, and quite another to be forced to do so by weakness or ill-health. Still, with due care, it may be made less distasteful than would seem practicable at the first glance.

      The preliminary sponging, mouth-washing, and hot drink should take place in this as in the other case. Then, after a brief rest, during which the windows should have been opened for a few minutes, and closed long enough to allow the room to regain a comfortable temperature, the task of rearranging the bed and its occupant should be begun. Clean linen and pillows should be at hand, and the patient be sponged off, have her hair combed, be arrayed in another night-dress, moved to the other side of the bed, and provided with a fresh pillow, as expeditiously yet gently as may be. Then, when the soiled clothing has been removed, the room been once more aired and warmed, the patient may be raised on pillows and her breakfast brought to her. There is an admirable little table which may be arranged above the patient's knees, and is a great comfort to any one compelled to take her meals in bed for any length of time.

      Nothing should be left untried to render the invalid's breakfast tempting. The tray should be covered with a spotless cloth, the china, silver, and glass should be of the best the house affords, and the same napkin should never be offered a second time.

      The tea or coffee cup and the egg-glass should be filled with boiling water, that they may not cool what is put into them. A pretty little pot should hold the tea or coffee, and there should be a tiny cream-jug and sugar-bowl. A vase containing a few flowers, preferably those without a heavy perfume, should grace the tray, and in the preparation of the food every evidence should be given of the loving thoughtfulness that has left unsought no means of lightening the discomfort of the sufferer. Where there is no bed-table, there should be another tray, smaller than that in which the breakfast is brought. This may then be placed on a stand or chair beside the bed, while the other holds the cup or plate upon the patient's lap. A large napkin or clean towel should always protect the bedclothes from food that may possibly be spilled upon them, for few things are more unpleasant to a sick person, especially to one afflicted with a squeamish stomach, than the sight of a spot of egg, coffee, or grease on sheet or spread. When such an accident occurs, the stained article should always be promptly exchanged for a fresh one.

      The meal over, every vestige of food and every reminder of the repast should be at once removed, the patient's face and hands again sponged off, the pillows shaken and turned, and the invalid's position changed. Should any odor of food remain, the room may once more be aired.

      Peace and quiet must reign while the invalid eats. If visitors are to be admitted it must not be at that time. Only one or possibly two members of the family, and those the quietest ones, may be present, and the conversation must be pleasant and cheery. No distressing topics must be broached, no references except encouraging ones made to the invalid's state of health. In the delicately balanced condition of nerves which generally afflicts a sick person, very little will serve to upset the equilibrium and to effectually banish appetite.

      All that love's ingenuity can suggest should be done to provide a variety of food for the invalid. After a little while she usually tires of what impatient men, under similar circumstances, stigmatize as "slops," and wearies for something more substantial and appetizing than gruels, broths, and soft toast. In those cases where solid food is forbidden by the physician, catering is more difficult, but often a convalescent is permitted to eat a greater variety of food than is offered her. Cream soups, clear soups, broiled birds, a bit of tenderloin steak, a lamb chop, a tiny baked omelet, raw, stewed, and roast oysters, broiled and fricasseed chicken, poached and soft-boiled eggs, a bit of venison, dishes of rice, sago, and tapioca, jellies, custards, blanc-manges, fruits, plain ice-cream—there is almost no end to the dainty menus that can be arranged. Every meal should be a surprise; there should be no discussion in the invalid's presence of what she can eat, although every reasonable wish she expresses for any article of food should be gratified, if feasible. The sick one's lot is hard enough at the best, and no expedient should be left untried to ameliorate it.

A BREAKFAST-PARTY

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