To whom it may concern,
My name is Sara Davis, and I have chronic persistent
dysphagia. Perhaps it is strange that a
person like myself, unable to swallow food normally, should be pursuing a
career in culinary arts; I haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t liquefied since I
was 19 years old. However, I can’t
ignore my passion.
I spent years visiting different doctors, having multiple
tests done, trying different medications.
Nothing could help me. I have too
may structural issues, as well as heightened anxiety that has developed over
the years from many choking experiences.
I will probably have to liquefy my food for the rest of my life. Am I upset?
Yes, I was at first. But as time
has passed, I have learned to live this way.
And whenever someone finds out about my condition and offers me their
sincere condolences that I can’t enjoy the cheeseburger, I merely shrug my
shoulders and say I’m used to it.
My parents, for my 20th birthday, gave me a very
special gift: a Vita Mix commercial grade blender. This thing could blend rocks. I was wary at first, squeamish even. How could I even possibly entertain the
thought of blending my food? That’s just
disgusting. I remembered the horrid
taste of baby food, convincing myself this would bear the same results. A friend of mine told me she had blended a
cheeseburger with milk when she got her wisdom teeth out, and assured me it had
tasted amazing. Still, it took me awhile
to swallow my pride and try blending a cheeseburger. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had real
food for a couple years, but that cheeseburger soup tasted amazing! I could taste the fattiness of the beef, the
melted cheese, the tangy pickle, the spicy onions and mustard; all flavors I
hadn’t been able to taste in such a long time.
It actually brought me to tears and I said a small prayer of thanks that
I was able to find a way to eat again.
My favorite thing to do was find a new and challenging
recipe, prepare it for at least a dozen people, and then apply the newly
learned techniques to other foods I was already comfortable cooking. In college especially, the results often
brought roommate’s friends and assorted strangers to my door to sample my
culinary masterpieces (or so I liked to call them). When I eventually married, my dear husband
was perfectly candid and honest with me about everything I made for him. He told me he recognized my talent and his
honesty was merely to help me perfect it.
It was he who suggested I go to culinary school. Every time we sit together watching the Food
Network, things like Iron Chef and Chopped, he tells me I could do
that. Of course that would be a dream
come true for me, the opportunity to be a real chef. Unfortunately, one thing has always kept me
back: my dysphagia. How would I ever be
able to attend classes where tasting your homework is key, when I would have to
pulverize everything in order to do so?
I often would joke that I could have a “taster” accompany me to classes,
like a deaf person similarly has a translator.
But I know I never would.
In May of 2011, I gave birth to my son, Tristan, by Cesarean
section. Fortunately, I had been working
as a medical assistant, and my boss was my doctor. She and I had talked at length about what I
was going to do for food in the hospital, deciding finally to put me on the
hospital dysphagia-1 diet. I had wanted
to bring my blender along, but hospital protocol forbid because it would
disturb the other patients in the mother/baby ward. I wasn’t too bothered until I got my first
tray of food.
It was watered down pea goop, mushy potatoes, and something
that smelled pretty horrific (I didn’t even bother trying to figure out what
that one was). Take away the fact that
everything smelled and looked revolting, it was completely unsuitable for me because
of the grainy and lumpy textures. My
husband tried explaining to the staff that my food needed to be texture free
and the consistency of milk, but they weren’t able to make me something
suitable until my fourth day in hospital.
My nurses were concerned because I wasn’t getting the calories I needed
for breastfeeding, but the kitchen staff was completely baffled and unsure of
what to prepare. I lived that week on
Boost and milk, learning the best way to lose the baby weight is to starve…
After that experience, I decided something: I wanted to be a
chef. Not just an ordinary chef, but a
dysphagia chef as well. I want to learn
the ways of culinary arts to better my knowledge of preparing good, nutritious,
and tasty foods so that people like me can still enjoy a palatable meal. I would love to be a chef in a hospital, or a
rehabilitation center. Of course, I can
still prepare amazing foods normally for people to enjoy, and that is where my
passion lies. But I want to be able to
make it possible for people like me to eat tasty things as well. I think too often stroke victims, or people
who have their jaws wired shut, or the elderly who can’t swallow well, live on
bland and tasteless diets because no one really cares. But I care, and I know what it’s like.
Should you select me as the recipient of the *insert name here* Scholarship, I vow to carry on a passion for cooking in my own education and
eventual career. The culinary arts are a
fantastic way to bring a person’s creative mind to life, and more importantly,
to bring people together. It’s amazing
just how much our culture revolves around food, and that leaves me feeling left
out some of the time. I don’t want to
feel that way anymore, I want my passion to have a purpose. I may not be able to enjoy food wholly
myself, but I can prepare it for others to enjoy.
This sounds absolutely amazing and inspiring!
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