I hadn't eaten or drunk since midnight the night before. I couldn't sit up properly and eat and drink until after 6:30pm. I couldn't be bothered until about 7:30.
At about 9pm or thereabouts I decided to be brave and try to eat the bread roll (just a little dinner roll), that I'd been given - I'd missed meal time. Bread roll. Margarine. Jam. I wasn't allowed to sit up until 9:30pm.
I'm not a margarine person. I'm not a jam person.
The nurse came around to see whether I needed something. She was an angel named Molly. I asked "Is there any chance of getting some butter, I really don't like margarine."
"This is the cardiac ward," was her stern reply.
"But my cholesterol is low..." I retorted.
"But what if it goes up... you never know... better to be safe..." she replied.
"Grrr," was my retort. I figured she was just doing her job. It was a very quiet Grr. She was, after all, looking after me.
A little later she was back with a cup of tea and a bendy straw, my third cup of tea - I couldn't sit up.
"I'm really not a jam person," I began. "Do you think I could get some vegemite?"
"This is the cardiac ward," was the reply, again.
The jam was nice, and we compromised in that I could have another little tub of jam, so I had apricot and strawberry (I hate strawberry jam, it's common), but this jam was nice.
I just remembered that I didn't have breakfast the next morning, either. And I didn't sleep a wink that night.
I shudder to think what I'd have been fed if I was diabetic...
I really don't have any complaints about the treatment or care I received in hospital, though the waiting sux.
PS Regarding vegemite, I have to really feel like it, and usually I only have the smallest scrape of the stuff. It's not like I'd be ODing on salt from it.