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Description
30 days of Comfortember .
Day 9 - Junk Food

...

As the day slowly wore on, Soji pulled himself together, forced down some of the terrible sponge gourd juice to calm the coughing, and set to the task of sorting the paper envelopes of medication stacked inside his tea tray, which had a tendency to become jumbled with use.

Thankfully, they were all labeled because the assortment of loose herbs in each one looked and smelled nearly identical to him, most even shared the same bitter taste. (Dr. Matsumoto, who didn’t think highly of kampo medicines because so many of them were prepared by quacks, might have pointed out that they were, in fact, probably identical - a point over which he and Soji had butted heads repeatedly.) There was the medication for his throat, which he’d taken after breakfast, another one for pain, which was nearly empty, and yet others for fever, restoring energy, and helping him sleep. Lastly, a mixture to be made into a paste for the treatment of bed sores; this one definitely not to be taken internally.

He looked contentedly over the organized tray after he’d finished, wondering with a small smile what Hijikata might have to say about it not including a single envelope of the Ishida sanyaku his family made, wonder cure for cuts, bruises, sprains, and broken bones, among other things. But the thought brought with it an uncomfortable reminder that he’d been left behind while Hijikata and the rest of his Shieikan family had moved forward with the current of time.

When Saito returned late in the afternoon, Soji was sitting at the writing desk in front of the open shoji, engrossed in a book of illustrated crime stories Okiyo had lent him. He was still wearing the Shinsengumi haori, but he was feeling much better compared to that morning, now that he’d rested and taken some more medicine. He was even working on another cup of tea. The book was holding his attention so well he didn’t even hear Saito enter the room until the doors slid shut behind him and finally caught his attention.

“Oh, you’re back!” Soji said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Although he wasn’t entirely up-to-date on where things stood for either the Shinsengumi or the shogunate since the battle of Toba-Fushimi, he knew Saito risked being recognized each time he went into the city - perhaps even being arrested or attacked. Then his eyes caught the parcel Saito was holding and he couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s that?”

Saito placed the package on the floor and untied the green furoshiki cloth in which it was wrapped, spreading it wide like a tablecloth. The contents, carefully stacked for wrapping, started to spill across the cloth and Soji picked up two of the candles that had rolled toward him, as he looked over the other items. At the bottom of the packet was a second parcel wrapped in a separate cloth, about the length and width of a book but much taller - perhaps a box or container of some sort. Above that, a small stack of printed origami paper was tied with a string. A small paper box and several paper bags bearing store logos were nestled on top of the pile.

Saito set aside the paper bags and handed the box to Soji, watching with a smile for his reaction when he opened it to reveal two types of dango and four different flavors of manju. He’d been to numerous shops to find such a wide assortment and he was looking forward to seeing Soji, who’d always enjoyed sweets, try these. But his smile quickly faded when he saw the crestfallen expression that spread across Okita’s face instead.

“Soji?”

Okita tried to force a smile but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he looked down at the box of sweets in his hands, tilting it, looking at the variety of colors of the different flavored manju that looked so delectable. Eventually he carefully closed the box and gently placed it back down on the cloth, still looking anywhere except at Saito. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, almost as if he were giving himself a hug, and tried for another smile but again faltered.

“I can’t eat them anymore,” he finally said quietly. He felt that he needed to explain but it was difficult to find the words and to say them out loud. “It’s my throat … it … I can’t swallow them*.” He looked away again, his gaze falling back onto the box with the sweets he would have loved to eat. He didn’t want to look up to see Saito’s disappointed face, knowing he’d gone out of his way to bring him these.

“… if it’s a sweet that you can let melt in your mouth, is that okay?” Saito said, and it caught Okita by surprise. He looked up and Saito held out one of the white paper bags, which bore a logo that Soji thought he recognized as belonging to a confectioner’s on Nihonbashi street. “It’s just konpeito,” Saito said apologetically, but Soji couldn’t help smiling when he took the bag.

“Konpeito is just fine. Thank you.”

…

* Medical note: Being unable to swallow (dysphagia) is common in patients with advanced tuberculosis not only because it’s so painful (think about how your throat feels if you’ve had a bad cough for several days) but also due to mediastinal fibrosis, a condition caused by scar tissue forming in the throat, which compresses the esophagus and limits its movement.

Dysphagia is graded from 0 to 4: 0, normal diet possible; 1, unable to swallow certain solids; 2, able to swallow only semisolid soft diet; 3, able to swallow liquids only, and 4, unable to swallow even liquids in adequate amounts. (The grading is irrelevant but I thought some of you would find it interesting).

Description
30 days of Comfortember .
Day 9 - Junk Food

...

As the day slowly wore on, Soji pulled himself together, forced down some of the terrible sponge gourd juice to calm the coughing, and set to the task of sorting the paper envelopes of medication stacked inside his tea tray, which had a tendency to become jumbled with use.

Thankfully, they were all labeled because the assortment of loose herbs in each one looked and smelled nearly identical to him, most even shared the same bitter taste. (Dr. Matsumoto, who didn’t think highly of kampo medicines because so many of them were prepared by quacks, might have pointed out that they were, in fact, probably identical - a point over which he and Soji had butted heads repeatedly.) There was the medication for his throat, which he’d taken after breakfast, another one for pain, which was nearly empty, and yet others for fever, restoring energy, and helping him sleep. Lastly, a mixture to be made into a paste for the treatment of bed sores; this one definitely not to be taken internally.

He looked contentedly over the organized tray after he’d finished, wondering with a small smile what Hijikata might have to say about it not including a single envelope of the Ishida sanyaku his family made, wonder cure for cuts, bruises, sprains, and broken bones, among other things. But the thought brought with it an uncomfortable reminder that he’d been left behind while Hijikata and the rest of his Shieikan family had moved forward with the current of time.

When Saito returned late in the afternoon, Soji was sitting at the writing desk in front of the open shoji, engrossed in a book of illustrated crime stories Okiyo had lent him. He was still wearing the Shinsengumi haori, but he was feeling much better compared to that morning, now that he’d rested and taken some more medicine. He was even working on another cup of tea. The book was holding his attention so well he didn’t even hear Saito enter the room until the doors slid shut behind him and finally caught his attention.

“Oh, you’re back!” Soji said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Although he wasn’t entirely up-to-date on where things stood for either the Shinsengumi or the shogunate since the battle of Toba-Fushimi, he knew Saito risked being recognized each time he went into the city - perhaps even being arrested or attacked. Then his eyes caught the parcel Saito was holding and he couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s that?”

Saito placed the package on the floor and untied the green furoshiki cloth in which it was wrapped, spreading it wide like a tablecloth. The contents, carefully stacked for wrapping, started to spill across the cloth and Soji picked up two of the candles that had rolled toward him, as he looked over the other items. At the bottom of the packet was a second parcel wrapped in a separate cloth, about the length and width of a book but much taller - perhaps a box or container of some sort. Above that, a small stack of printed origami paper was tied with a string. A small paper box and several paper bags bearing store logos were nestled on top of the pile.

Saito set aside the paper bags and handed the box to Soji, watching with a smile for his reaction when he opened it to reveal two types of dango and four different flavors of manju. He’d been to numerous shops to find such a wide assortment and he was looking forward to seeing Soji, who’d always enjoyed sweets, try these. But his smile quickly faded when he saw the crestfallen expression that spread across Okita’s face instead.

“Soji?”

Okita tried to force a smile but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he looked down at the box of sweets in his hands, tilting it, looking at the variety of colors of the different flavored manju that looked so delectable. Eventually he carefully closed the box and gently placed it back down on the cloth, still looking anywhere except at Saito. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, almost as if he were giving himself a hug, and tried for another smile but again faltered.

“I can’t eat them anymore,” he finally said quietly. He felt that he needed to explain but it was difficult to find the words and to say them out loud. “It’s my throat … it … I can’t swallow them*.” He looked away again, his gaze falling back onto the box with the sweets he would have loved to eat. He didn’t want to look up to see Saito’s disappointed face, knowing he’d gone out of his way to bring him these.

“… if it’s a sweet that you can let melt in your mouth, is that okay?” Saito said, and it caught Okita by surprise. He looked up and Saito held out one of the white paper bags, which bore a logo that Soji thought he recognized as belonging to a confectioner’s on Nihonbashi street. “It’s just konpeito,” Saito said apologetically, but Soji couldn’t help smiling when he took the bag.

“Konpeito is just fine. Thank you.”

…

* Medical note: Being unable to swallow (dysphagia) is common in patients with advanced tuberculosis not only because it’s so painful (think about how your throat feels if you’ve had a bad cough for several days) but also due to mediastinal fibrosis, a condition caused by scar tissue forming in the throat, which compresses the esophagus and limits its movement.

Dysphagia is graded from 0 to 4: 0, normal diet possible; 1, unable to swallow certain solids; 2, able to swallow only semisolid soft diet; 3, able to swallow liquids only, and 4, unable to swallow even liquids in adequate amounts. (The grading is irrelevant but I thought some of you would find it interesting).