“Counting Calories”

         In our household, counting calories has taken on a totally new meaning. Dieting by Lean Cuisine has never appealed to me, and I preferred to watch the types of food I eat over the calorie count they may contain. Recent events, though, have us scouring the food aisles for products giving us the highest calories possible.

         Last year, I never worried about Mom’s weight. She ate three meals a day and snacked on pudding, cookies, candy, brownies, ice cream and colas. She nibbled on this-n-that all day long. Her chorea meant she burned most of the food she ate, so even though she took in about 3,000 to 5,000 calories a day, her weight stayed steady at 135 to 145.

         Six months ago, mom started fatiguing when she fed herself. She’d start a meal and then shove aside her bowl before finishing. She’d insist that she was done—that she was full. I would try to coax her to eat a few more bites, but she would insist that I take her away from the table. Her weight didn’t change much, though, because she continued to snack from the wide variety I kept in her tin.

         Within the last two months, Mom could no longer feed herself. She simply didn’t have the muscle strength for a meal. One of us now sits in front of her and prompts her to open her mouth. We watch and wait for her signal before we put another portion into her mouth. She’s still able to eat her favorite foods, and very few things have to be run through the blender, but meals take longer.

         I didn’t pick up on Mom’s weight loss immediately. Like many things, it happened so gradually that one day as I pulled up her Depends I noticed she’d lost shape in her legs, thighs, and butt. I decided to really watch her throughout the day, and noticed that she wasn’t reaching for her tin any more. I realized that she wasn’t getting any of those extra calories that she packs into her day with Kit Kats and miniature Milky Ways.  She didn’t pick up her mug to sip her sodas, either.

         Belatedly, it dawned on me that I needed to ply Mom with her snacks all day long because she no longer initiates eating them. Over the last few days, I’ve lingered on the couch next to her.

         “Mom, would you like a piece of candy?” I ask now. Then I take a piece from her tin and offer it to her. Sometimes, she will grab the chocolate and eat it. Sometimes I break off a piece and pop it into her mouth. She’s an eager bird, rarely turning down an offer of muffin or cookie.

         Because Mom tires as the day progresses, I have shifted giving her high calorie foods in the mornings. Instead of her two scrambled eggs and a Boost, I started giving her a Boost milkshake with tons of ice cream and whipped cream. She downed a muffin yesterday that contained 360 calories. I added butter and sour cream to every dish served, too.

         It’s too early to tell if these changes have made a difference in Mom’s weight, but she does seem more alert. Perhaps some of her recent bad days resulted from a lack of energy from not enough food. Time will tell.  

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Mom’s Meals”

“The Incredible, Edible Egg!” sang through my head this morning as I poached some eggs for Mom’s breakfast. Every morning, I ask her what she’d like to eat: scrambled eggs, fried eggs, hard boiled eggs, poached eggs, French toast, or pancakes. Nine time out of ten, she’ll request eggs in one of its variations.

         Today, as I prepared her meal, I realized we rely upon eggs so much because I can fix them so quickly. When Mom’s hungry, she wants food immediately. Pancakes yesterday turned into a farce as she continually asked, “Where’s my breakfast? David said he was fixing me pancakes. Where are my pancakes?” I explained he was beating the batter and teased that I didn’t think she’d want to soup out her pancakes with a spoon. She laughed, but her impatience bubbles to the surface more frequently now than in the past. When she queried once again on the status of her pancakes, David stepped into the family room, bowl and mixing spoon in hand, to show her the state of her meal. She laughed.

         With Huntington’s disease, chewing and swallowing become compromised, so finding the “right” foods sometimes proves difficult.  Most of the time, we don’t rely upon pureeing dishes because I cook meals that I know Mom can eat—right now. Things could change quickly. When she moved in last year, she could eat anything I cooked. Within a few months, we began cutting meats into smaller and smaller pieces. I’ve shifted her meals to ground beef, ground sausages, or ground turkey as an easier alternative to running meats through the food processor. Often, I’ll bake a roast until the meat falls apart in moist splendor. We’ve discovered the dark meat of chicken (leg and thigh meat) is easier for Mom to chew and swallow than the white selections. I never thought food would become such a focus in our home. In order to accommodate her changing needs, I rely upon making huge batches of the foods she can easily eat, freezing portions for her so I can pull them out and zap them in the microwave when hunger hits her.  

Last night, I prepared a can of chunky beef and vegetable soup. It’s been a while since I’ve opened a can of Campbell’s since I’ve been making most of our soups lately. It never occurred to me that the chunks in the soup would prove too big for Mom to eat! I ended up pulling the vegetables and meat out, chopping all of it into fine pieces, and mushing it with a fork to blend back into the broth. I will change my stash of “emergency” canned soups from the chunky choices to ones like split pea. These little adjustments occur all the time with Mom’s diet. We’ll discover something she ate effortlessly a few months ago now gives her a little trouble.

         I try to keep Mom’s calorie count high, but that’s getting harder. She spends an entire afternoon sipping one soda where last year she’d drink both juice and soda during the same time frame. She starts her day with a chocolate supplement that she drinks along with breakfast, but often she leaves some behind. She loves milkshakes and ice cream, so I offer one or the other each day. Fatigue factors into her calorie count. Mom can still feed herself, but anything not eaten within fifteen minutes won’t get eaten. She’ll shove aside the bowl and say she’s finished. It doesn’t mean she’s full. It means she’s eaten all she has the energy to eat. Her leftovers get scooped into a small tub for her to finish later in the day. Within two hours, she’ll ask for something else to eat. Sometimes she’ll crave something sweet. She can eat the soft cookies many companies market, or she’ll ask for a piece of chocolate, or the small bite sized brownies our HEB bakes. And she never refuses the offer of a banana.

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman