LJ Idol 8, Topic 6: "Food Memory"
When I was not quite eighteen months of age, I nearly caused my lovable, plump, apple-dumpling of a grandmother to have a heart attack.
I didn't mean to cause her distress. As the youngest of four grandchildren, and the only girl, I was pampered and spoiled to no end.
Well, only one end was technically Pampered, but I presume you know what I mean.
That early spring day in 1969, my world changed. I have no personal memory of the event, but according to family legend, my grandma Adele had been cradling me in her arms, blissfully enjoying a weekend visit with her only granddaughter. Without warning, my body became as stiff as a cutting board, my face paled to a tapioca hue, and my baby blue eyes rolled back into my head.
This had never happened to anyone in our family before, and as would be expected, panic ensued.
Apparently, I was having a seizure.
My parents hurried me to the hospital to see what could be done. The doctors must not have been too concerned at the time, because I was discharged and sent back home.
Several hours later, I had a second seizure, nearly identical to the first. I was rushed back to the hospital with a police escort, lights flashing and sirens piercing the air of the quiet New York suburb in which we lived. This time, the medical professionals prescribed a low dose of Phenobarbital, a pill which soon became the bane of my existence. Like many youngsters, I had issues ingesting medication which wasn't in liquid form - trying to get me to swallow the tiny white tablet was about as effective as pilling a cat. After weeks of trials and tantrums, it was discovered that hiding the medication in a teaspoon of applesauce allowed me to consume it without fuss. After all, applesauce doesn't require chewing - just one gulp of the delicious Mott's mash and the pill magically disappeared!
Every year without fail, my follow-up electroencephalogram (EEG) results were abnormal enough that I was maintained on a low dose of Phenobarbital as a precautionary measure. It wasn't until I was a senior in high school that my doctor finally agreed to taper me off, much to my profound relief. By then I could take my meds without an applesauce chaser, but even now I still find it difficult to swallow pills with just water - they get stuck in my throat without something more substantial, like orange juice or milk, to ease the way down.
Much to everyone's relief, I never did have another seizure after those first two.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I still enjoy an occasional bowl of applesauce.
I didn't mean to cause her distress. As the youngest of four grandchildren, and the only girl, I was pampered and spoiled to no end.
Well, only one end was technically Pampered, but I presume you know what I mean.
That early spring day in 1969, my world changed. I have no personal memory of the event, but according to family legend, my grandma Adele had been cradling me in her arms, blissfully enjoying a weekend visit with her only granddaughter. Without warning, my body became as stiff as a cutting board, my face paled to a tapioca hue, and my baby blue eyes rolled back into my head.
This had never happened to anyone in our family before, and as would be expected, panic ensued.
Apparently, I was having a seizure.
My parents hurried me to the hospital to see what could be done. The doctors must not have been too concerned at the time, because I was discharged and sent back home.
Several hours later, I had a second seizure, nearly identical to the first. I was rushed back to the hospital with a police escort, lights flashing and sirens piercing the air of the quiet New York suburb in which we lived. This time, the medical professionals prescribed a low dose of Phenobarbital, a pill which soon became the bane of my existence. Like many youngsters, I had issues ingesting medication which wasn't in liquid form - trying to get me to swallow the tiny white tablet was about as effective as pilling a cat. After weeks of trials and tantrums, it was discovered that hiding the medication in a teaspoon of applesauce allowed me to consume it without fuss. After all, applesauce doesn't require chewing - just one gulp of the delicious Mott's mash and the pill magically disappeared!
Every year without fail, my follow-up electroencephalogram (EEG) results were abnormal enough that I was maintained on a low dose of Phenobarbital as a precautionary measure. It wasn't until I was a senior in high school that my doctor finally agreed to taper me off, much to my profound relief. By then I could take my meds without an applesauce chaser, but even now I still find it difficult to swallow pills with just water - they get stuck in my throat without something more substantial, like orange juice or milk, to ease the way down.
Much to everyone's relief, I never did have another seizure after those first two.
And yes, in case you're wondering, I still enjoy an occasional bowl of applesauce.