There comes a time in a hospital stay when the patient is invited to choose their food for the next day. If you come into the hospital conscious, you’re good to go immediately. If you come into the hospital unconscious, you must first become conscious and then show that you can swallow without choking or aspirating solids/liquids into your lungs.
After a few days in the Intensive Care Unit, the Big Guy met these criteria and I was helping to fill in a meal form. Right away there was trouble. For breakfast, did he want apple juice or peaches no ice? I can’t remember the last time I served canned peaches so maybe I’m out of touch, but it seemed like an odd thing to specify. Yeah, we have peaches, but you can’t have them with ice. Why did they feel the need to temper expectations in that way?
And since they did seem to feel this need, why stop there? Why wasn’t it crackers-no-ice? Meatloaf-no-ice? Chocolate-chip-cookie-no-ice?
I went on to the easier choices–Gravy? Yes, whenever offered.–and circled back at the end to the breakfast-fruit selection. After consulting with the principal, I decided to take the plunge: peaches-no-ice it would be. I mean, how bad could it be? It was just peaches, right? Without ice?
The meal tray arrived the next morning to much rejoicing. Well, OK, to a little resignation. As someone else tucked into the vittles, I checked out the accompanying shipping label to see if it offered a clue not obvious on the first form. Here’s the relevant portion:
Yup, 1 ptn of Peaches no ice, of Pêches conserve s/ius.
Just a minute. It’s not s/ius: It’s s/jus, an abbreviated form of sans jus. Which makes the English . . . wait for it . . . peaches, no jce.
Peaches no juice. Good Lord.
It seems wrong that my reading/decoding skills would save me in French instead of in English, but whatever works. Maybe seeing an obvious abbreviation–ptn for portion–kickstarted my brain to work in another mode? Maybe it helped that there is no French word ius?
I spent the next few days testing civilians with whom I came into contact, to see if anyone read through this to the correct interpretation on the first try. Nope. Everyone read it as peaches no ice, even though this makes no sense.
There’s a psychological study there, I’m sure: When reading–or when interpreting the world in any other way–how long do we rely on the plain evidence of our eyes when what we see makes no sense? How quickly do we recruit other things we know to realign our perceptions of the world with our knowledge of it?
And how often do we use a rule of thumb to make a decision when things don’t make sense? Peaches no ice? Sure, why not? It’s just peaches, right? Without ice?
PS If you’re wondering about the header photo, I didn’t want to introduce the shipping label too quickly, and this sunset photo from Nfld is what the media library offered me when I entered “peach.” And, no, I hadn’t entered “peach” as a tag for the photo. It figured that out on its own.
There are lots of things in hosp pcdrs worth getting upset act. This one strikes me as sm pttos. Still, it gave you an idea to start a clm, and perhaps that in itself is sufficient justification — especially when your mind is preoccupied with Ivan’s health and recovery.
Jim T – 🙂 All dstrctns welcome . . .
Isabel
Peaches on the rocks? Go figger!
Tom
Tom – 🙂
This speaks to the wonderful world of fonts. Poor design and poor choice of font. Nothing to do with any faults of yours. Readability is key to good font design. Can you tell I managed the City’s print shop in one of my very early positions there?
Judith – I didn’t remember that but I can believe it. I, too, fault the font – and I also feel bad for all the times I told font-obsessed executives that fonts didn’t matter. Although I guess there’s something about a relevant range . . .
Jim had it right. Being in hospital for yourself or a loved is tough. My sister saw a friend who had lost her very dear mother a year ago. Betsy told me, “Eleanor was more integrated since I saw her last.” Meaning to me, E. had been “disintegrated” at the death of her mother. Not surprising you saw jic as ice, but good that you could distract yourself by writing about it. 😀 (That typeface didn’t help, BTW.)
Barbara – Yes, it’s an awful typeface for what they’re trying to do with it. But if I start editing the Heart Institute, I won’t quit. (Their “we don’t tolerate nastiness” signs are hopelessly obscure.) And yes, disintegrated is about what it feels like, for sure.
I, too, caught the meaning of the French before I re-calibrated the English. But the question of peach juice posing a choking hazard remains.
Laurna – I figured the “no juice” rule had to do with avoiding added sugar – more of a “no syrup” rule, perhaps.