It usually involves his refusal to eat, the word “slop,” and demands for special dishes-as if the nursing home dining hall is run by short-order cooks or personal chefs. I watch the thrice-daily drama of mealtime on my regular visits to the retirement facility that is now his home. Not for the first time, I think that there is a difference between feeding and eating, between eating for pleasure and eating for maintenance. He eats the “mechanical diet” for people who have difficulty swallowing, and today’s meal is a beige mishmash of minced chicken and potatoes, served with a thickened soda. The nursing assistant tells him, “Chew, chew, chew.” Then, she reminds him to swallow-a command that swells with gentle forcefulness at each repetition.
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