Hospital Food Quotes & Sayings

It is the fear of death
24/7 in every shade of hospital white and doomsday black
that sells the pharmaceutical, political, financial, film, and food product promising to make good the wish to live forever. — Lewis H. Lapham

When, late in the war, with the Wehrmacht breaking up on all fronts, our planes were sent to destroy this last major city, I doubt if the question was asked, "How will this tragedy benefit us, and how will that benefit compare with the ill-effects in the long run?" Dresden, a beautiful city, built in the art spirit, symbol of an admirable heritage, so anti-Nazi that Hitler visited it but twice during his whole reign, food and hospital center so bitterly needed now - plowed under and salt strewn in the furrows. — Kurt Vonnegut

You can either spend your money on real food, or you can start sending your local hospital a check every month, because sooner or later, that is where your money is going to end up. — T.C. Hale

If beef is your idea of 'real food for real people', you'd better live real close to a real good hospital. — Neal Barnard

She had done right. Made something out of nothing. The human life span had doubled, you did not get to the hospital without oil, the medicines you took could not be made, the food you ate did not reach the store, the tractor did not leave the farmer's barn. She took something useless under the ground and brought it to the surface, into the light, where it meant something. It was creation. Her entire life. — Philipp Meyer

The technological efficiency of daughter-proofing a pregnancy may make it seem as if the girl shortage is a problem of modernity, but female infanticide has been documented in China and India for more than two thousand years.119 In China, midwives kept a bucket of water at the bedside to drown the baby if it was a girl. In India there were many methods: "giving a pill of tobacco and bhang to swallow, drowning in milk, smearing the mother's breast with opium or the juice of the poisonous Datura, or covering the child's mouth with a plaster of cow-dung before it drew breath." Then and now, even when daughters are suffered to live, they may not last long. Parents allocate most of the available food to their sons, and as a Chinese doctor explains, "if a boy gets sick, the parents may send him to the hospital at once, but if a girl gets sick, the parents may say to themselves, 'Well, we'll see how she is tomorrow. — Steven Pinker

When service members are discharged, we should express our gratitude for their profound personal sacrifice, not hand them a bill for their hospital food. — Barbara Boxer

Some nights he sat up late on his front porch with a glass of Jack and listened to the trucks heading south on 220, carrying crates of live chickens to the slaughterhouses - always under cover of darkness, like a vast and shameful trafficking - chickens pumped full of hormones that left them too big to walk - and he thought how these same chickens might return from their destination as pieces of meat to the floodlit Bojangles' up the hill from his house, and that meat would be drowned in the bubbling fryers by employees whose hatred of the job would leak into the cooked food, and that food would be served up and eaten by customers who would grow obese and end up in the hospital in Greensboro with diabetes or heart failure, a burden to the public, and later Dean would see them riding around the Mayodan Wal-Mart in electric carts because they were too heavy to walk the aisles of a Supercenter, just like hormone-fed chickens. — George Packer

Corunda Base Hospital itself continued to function on doctors, nurses, domestic staff, food preparers, and ancillary staff in the same old way, so that the patients lived (or died) in relative ignorance of the drama going on at an executive level. Indeed, it was a rare patient even knew that a hospital had executives. — Colleen McCullough

At the moment that target was eating tacos his mother had brought in despite hospital orders against outside food.
"Oh, God, this is good," Sam said as juicy beef and crisp lettuce dribbled out onto the tray on his lap.
"Still not tired of eating?" Connie asked him.
"I will never be tired of eating. I'm going to eat until I'm huge. Food, hot water, clean sheets. At least I'll get those three in prison. — Michael Grant

Some studies have reported C. diff in food purchased in a supermarket. Dogs, horses, pigs, and rabbits can also be carriers of C. diff, although spread of disease from pets or domestic animals to humans has yet to be documented. Like most infections, it is usually impossible to pinpoint the source of C. diff. — J. Thomas LaMont

So," he said, "you really think having archangels string you up by your halo is worth saving this Harvester chick?"
"She saved the world"
Wraith shrugged. "So did I, but I don't see you offering up your holy ass to save me."
"Are you suffering unspeakable horrors at the hands of Satan?"
"No," Wraith said, "but sometimes I have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. — Larissa Ione

She found Diana's room. Diana was sitting in her bed using a remote control to idly flip through the channels on the wall-mounted TV.
"You," Diana said by way of greeting.
"Me," Astrid said.
"Can't believe it," Diana said. "All this time. And there's still nothing on."
Astrid laughed and lowered herself slowly into a chair. "You know how they say hospital food is so awful? Somehow I'm not having that reaction."
"Tapioca beats rat," Diana said.
"I never minded rat as much as that dog jerky we were getting for a while. The stuff Albert had them flavor with celery salt? That was the culinary low point for me."
"Yeah, well, I had a lower low point," Diana said, sounding angry. Or maybe not angry, maybe hurt.
Astrid put a hand on Diana's arm, and Diana did not shake it off. — Michael Grant

I'm pretty sure that when babies are born in Oregon, they leave the hospital with birth certificates - and teeny-tiny sleeping bags. Everyone in the state camps. The hippies and the rednecks. The hunters and the tree huggers. Rich people. Poor people. Even rock musicians. Especially rock musicians. Our band had perfected the art of punk-rock camping, throwing a bunch of crap into the van with, like, an hour's notice and just driving out into the mountains, where we'd drink beer, burn food, jam on our instruments around the campfire, and sack out under the open sky. Sometimes, on tour, back in the early hardscrabble days, we'd even camp as an alternative to crashing in another crowded, roach-infested rock 'n' roll house.
I don't know if it's because no matter where you live, the wilderness is never that far off, but it just seemed like everyone in Oregon camped. — Gayle Forman

I think it was love at first sight for both of us; it just took us a little while to figure it out. That was understandable, considering we were being stuck with needles, shot through with radioactive particles, possibly poisoned by the horrific substances the hospital tried to pass off as food, and then, when we got discharged, running away and stealing cars together. — James Patterson

The house I grew up in had large plate-glass windows, which birds frequently crashed into headfirst. My father helped me assemble a bird hospital, consisting of a few shoe boxes, some old rags, and tiny dishes for water and food. — Patti Davis

The other three orderlies who accompanied him are critical in the hospital.'
'Critical?'
'Yes. Don't like the food, beds uncomfortable, waiting lists too long - usual crap. Other than that they're fine. — Jasper Fforde

Then the long nights, that were also days, in the hospital. And the long blanks, that were also nights. Needles, and angled glass rods to suck water through. Needles, and curious enamel wedges slid under your middle. Needles, and - needles and needles and needles. Like swarms of persistent mosquitoes with unbreakable drills. The way a pincushion feels, if it could feel. Or the target of a porcupine. Or a case of not just momentary but permanently endured static electricity after you scuff across a woolen rug and then put your finger on a light switch. Even food was a needle - a jab into a vein ...
("For The Rest Of Her Life") — Cornell Woolrich

Happy National Philanthropy Day! Do a good deed today and make the lives of others better.
Things you can do(if you can afford it):
a. Pay for a student to attend College or University
b. Make a donation to a bride and groom before they get married
c. Donate time to volunteer at a hospital or nursing home
d. Buy food and give it to a homeless individual
e. Volunteer at a soup kitchen — Kambiz Mostofizadeh

One key habit I adopted is washing or sanitizing of hands every time, especially after using the toilet, before eating or handling food and whenever I go to visit someone in hospital and after leaving the hospital. Also use proper protective clothing in other circumstances like assisting ailing relatives and friends with communicable diseases. — Archibald Marwizi

Debt never sleeps nor sickens nor dies; it never goes to the hospital; it works on Sundays and holidays; it never takes a vacation ... it is never laid off work ... it buys no food; it wears no clothes; it is unhoused ... it has neither weddings nor births nor deaths; it has no love, no sympathy; it is as hard and soulless as a granite cliff. Once in debt, it is your companion every minute of the day and night; you cannot shun it or slip away from it; you cannot dismiss it ... and whenever you get in its way or cross its course or fail to meet its demands, it crushes you. — J. Reuben Clark

I am at the hospital waiting for my friend with Noah. Which is a very couple-like thing to do. All you have to do is watch any teen drama - anytime one of the characters is close to death and/or in a coma, the boyfriend/girlfriend teams always end up at the hospital together.
We are eating together. (Another coupley thing to do.)
We are talking about my best friend, his girlfriend, and their secret problems that she somehow neglected to tell me. Which means that Noah is the one telling me secrets that even my best friend won't.
I like it. All of it. Being here, eating food, telling secrets, everything — Lauren Barnholdt

Something new is blowing. On a downtown Kingston wall: IMF - Is Manley Fault. General election called for October 30, 1980. Somebody is driving you through Bavaria, near the Austrian border. A hospital sprouting out of the forest like magic. Hills in the background tipped with snow like cake icing. You meet the tall and frosty Bavarian, the man who helps the hopeless. He smiles but his eyes are set too far back and they vanish in the shadow of his brow. Cancer is a red alert that the whole body is in danger, he says. Thank God the food he forbids, Rastafari had forbidden long time. A sunrise is a promise. Something new is blowing. November 1980. A new party wins the general election and the man who killed me steps up to the podium with his brothers to take over the country. He has been waiting for so long he leaps up the stairs and trips. — Marlon James

The idea of the camp was to use it as a staging area for soldiers on their way to liberate France. It was much better than putting them in Boston in case the Germans attacked. Allied soldiers from several countries left from Camp Myles Standish to go to England and then on to France. They would only stay for a week or two. One group would go out, and another group would come in. At that camp we were doing everything, all the maintenance. There was a small hospital with nurses and doctors, and we were busy. I worked in the PX. We sold coca-cola, and Narragansett beer was delivered once a month. Cigarettes were five dollars a carton. There was plenty of food. We were glad when they gave us American uniforms; that meant we were something. We had work, and we were doing something good. When Italy got out of the war, and we signed to cooperate, that felt pretty good. — Deborah L. Halliday

Food wasn't one of the amenities at Cooper, the five-hundred-bed hospital on which millions of poor people depended. Nor was medicine. "Out of stock today" was the nurses' official explanation. Plundered and resold out of supply cabinets was an unofficial one. What patients needed, families had to buy on the street and bring in. — Katherine Boo

There are surprising similarities between this diary and the diary I kept during junior high school. In each, there's a stunning lack of insight and curiosity about myself. In place of deep thought, there are dozens of passages dedicated to my body (weight gain in the recovery piece and lack of breasts in the junior high journal) and silly, petty issues of the day (hating hospital food versus fighting with frenemies). — Susannah Cahalan

I confessed that they were too hard to follow, and the summer before my sophomore fall, she sought to fully transform Yale's food-allergy plan. With her credentials from Boston Children's Hospital, she arranged meetings with our head chefs and supervisors, getting gluten-free cereals and bagels in dining halls, adding "gluten" labels on every dish's information cards. It was unbelievable. It was impressive. Watching her make calls, I could see her eyes smile with the smallest hint of pride. — Marina Keegan

It's been eight weeks since I left the hospital, Kane. Eight weeks. Me leg and arm have healed perfectly and me throat doesn't even hurt anymore. I'm sick to death of soup and soft foods. I'm pregnant which means I'm always hungry, and that shitty food isn't cuttin' it anymore. Please, just let me eat a packet of biscuits."

"A whole packet?" Keela merrily laughed. "You fat fuck. How did eatin' a single biscuit jump to eatin' a whole bloody packet?"

I dug the heel of my foot into her thigh. "Shut the hell up you traitorous cow! — L.A. Casey

Sure, she was going to turn eighteen in less than a year. She'd been in the system long enough to know that eighteenth birthdays weren't marked by celebrations. When the checks stopped coming, she'd be on her own. "Aging out" of foster care meant becoming homeless. She'd heard stories of kids ending up in jail and hospital emergency rooms, selling drugs, living on welfare and food stamps. How desperate did a person have to become before they broke the law to survive? For now, things were good, and she didn't want to mess that up. — Ellen Marie Wiseman

The street to my left was backed up with traffic and I watched the people waiting patiently in the cars. There was almost always a man and a women, staring straight ahead, not talking. It was, finally, for everyone, a matter of waiting. You waited and you waited- for the hospital, the doctor, the plumber, the madhouse, the jail, papa death himself. First the signal red, then the signal was green. The citizens of the world ate food and watched t.v. and worried about their jobs or lack of the same, while they waited. — Charles Bukowski

Fallujah was a Guernica with no Picasso. A city of 300,000 was deprived of water, electricity, and food, emptied of most of its inhabitants who ended up parked in camps. Then came the methodical bombing and recapture of the city block by block. When soldiers occupied the hospital, The New York Times managed to justify this act on grounds that the hospital served as an enemy propaganda center by exaggerating the number of casualties. And by the way, just how many casualties were there? Nobody knows, there is no body count for Iraqis. When estimates are published, even by reputable scientific reviews, they are denounced as exaggerated. Finally, the inhabitants were allowed to return to their devastated city, by way of military checkpoints, and start to sift through the rubble, under the watchful eye of soldiers and biometric controls. — Jean Bricmont