He's been in a foot race with diabetes for ten years and he's losing. Unable to give up the food of his childhood, landed him in ICU. Even after multiple doctors were called in because they had never seen a case this severe, he continued to hold on to the idea of nutrition as he knew it. Too afraid to make the changes that would save his life. Angry at the doctors for suggesting he make changes. Didn't they know he couldn't just change. Wouldn't change, it wasn't that simple.
The doctors did not understand the importance of food in his community. How food heals and brings folks together to heal.
When people died, folks from all over the neighborhood would bring a dish. Most times it was something fried and heavily seasoned with salt. Or it was something sweet with enough sugar to choke a horse. Sweet tea is a staple in the South and sometimes it was more sweet than tea. But that was normal.
Food was the way we celebrated, mourned and just gathered together to support each other. It made whatever was going on in your life, less devastating.
Can food be a drug?
"Like addictive drugs, highly palatable foods trigger feel-good brain chemicals such as dopamine. Once people experience pleasure associated with increased dopamine transmission in the brain's reward pathway from eating certain foods, they quickly feel the need to eat again".
As he faced the possibility of amputated limbs, going blind and loosing muscle mass to the extent that he would have to be placed in a nursing home at the ripe age of fifty three, his first thoughts were "what's for dinner".
His body is slowly failing him because he failed to adapt a healthy life style. Food is such a jealous mistress, there is no way he could extricate himself from it. In his mind, it meant giving up the food he was used to and adapting some bland non descript meal plan. He wasn't able to hear, "cut out the sugar and salt". That was crazy talk.
What now?
He joins millions of friends and family in the community who are struggling with diabetes, high blood pressure, obesity, hypertension and a myriad of other ailments that should be addressed. The knowledge that his situation could have been prevented and even turned around haunts him as he lies in bed watching tv, wishing he could walk to the bathroom.
He often talks about regrets. I hear this so often from folks who come to the realization that they have "killed themselves", the very words my mother uttered as she realized she had agency before her terminal diagnosis. She died at 52.
It is not that easy when historically food has been one of the few things you could look forward to. Lots of great cooks in the family and every plate was piled high.
Sometimes it is hard to break from what you know. What you trust that grounds you. That brings you comfort. With all the things going on in the world you hang on to the thoughts, the food, the person and the beliefs that bring you peace. No mater how toxic or damaging.
At some point it all becomes too overwhelming and you surrender to the idea that you can't change anything. Too many funerals, so much food.
Food was used and is still used as a panacea-the solution or remedy for all difficulties. Please don't get it twisted, BIPOC communities are facing the same challenges, from decades ago. Racism isn't new. Fear of Black and Brown bodies isn't new. BIPOC folk not trusting doctors enough to get regular check-ups isn't new. Prison Industrial Complex is the plantation: it ain't new.
Sit down, you hungry? Let me fix you a plate Baby!!!
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