I sat across from my dad having dinner this week. Thirty minutes after the sea bass with roasted cherry tomatoes arrived on the table, the bright red juices from the tomatoes seeping pleasingly into the creamy mash, most of mine remained on my plate. “That was perfectly cooked fish,” he noted. “Absolutely perfect.” I agreed before sadly shrugging: “But you know how it is now. No appetite.”
This has been the state of things since last summer, when I was put on new medication for a longstanding health condition. I take one pill each morning and the drug has been immensely helpful to my health, but one of its side effects is I have no desire for food. I once took so much joy in eating, but it now feels like such a chore that I long for a future where I can just take a pill for all my nutritional needs.
