I Have Difficulty Eating – But I’m Not Going to Starve

In the last year I’ve experienced increased difficulty getting food from my plate to my mouth. In an ironic twist, my skills at getting food on my shirt, on my pants, or on the floor have greatly improved.

We’ve been implementing new eating strategies for a while. I have plates with high sides so that I can push my food up against the edge in order to get it on my utensil. Below are two examples.

I eat one-handed. My left hand is not involved in this process at all, as it doesn’t have any value to add. So, because I push food up against the side of the plate, I need something to keep my meal from sliding across the table. We’ve purchased several sticky items that, when placed between the plate and the table, help keep things stationary. See the two examples below.

We have also modified my utensils. I have no need for a knife. I don’t have the strength or dexterity to cut food. I’m increasingly ignoring my fork, as spearing food has become more difficult over time, even lettuce in a salad. I mostly use a soup spoon for everything because Kim has already cut my food for me. In order to help with my grip on utensils, we’ve added foam to each of the handles. But even then, I had difficulty manipulating the utensils properly, so I asked my friend Michael to bend my spoons and forks in a couple different directions. Now, they work much better. See below.

It’s difficult for me to lift bottles, cups, or glasses to my mouth, so I tend to use straws these days. We found some reusable straws that we can bend into the exact configuration that we want. But I must admit that neither wine nor beer taste as good through a straw. See photo below.

As I stated in the first paragraph, I tend to spill a lot of food on my chest, belly, and lap. So we finally broke down and bought two adult bibs. They have saved a lot of damage to my clothes. I use them at home, but I haven’t got the nerve up to use them at a restaurant yet. See below.

But even with all these accommodations, I know that in the not-too-distant future I will no longer be able to feed myself at all. Already, Kim feeds me once in a while, depending on the food and on my level of hand and arm fatigue.

From a practical standpoint, there are worse things that can happen to me (and probably will). I’m not going to starve. People will always be around to feed me. But from a psychological standpoint, for both Kim and me, this is a tough one. The problem won’t be private dining, but rather group dining. I hate feeling pitied, and I know there will be a heavy dose of that sentiment aimed at me when I’m no longer able to feed myself.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. We have no plans to stop inviting people over or to curtail our dining out. I intend to sit back and enjoy my meals with guests, just like I always have. I’ll make conversation. I’ll smile and laugh. I’ll bore my companions with long stories and off-the-wall opinions. In the end, this is just another adjustment in a long line of adjustments that Kim and I will have to make.

It’s not the end of the world – not even close.