Chapter 18: Hoarding the Strawberry Bun I Never Wanted

One of the lowest points during my cancer treatment came when I contracted COVID.

After running a high fever for a couple of days, my GP advised me to check myself into the hospital. I arrived early in the morning and was directed to a sheltered but non-air-conditioned holding area, where I was told to wait.

30 minutes later, I asked for water. The attendant returned with two bottles of mineral water and two Gardenia butter buns. One of them was strawberry flavoured.

I froze.

Strawberry buns and I have a long, complicated history. Back in primary school, I once drank strawberry milk, got diarrhoea, and swore off anything processed and strawberry-flavoured for life. The sight of that pink bun stirred up old grievances. I hated strawberry buns.

But something instinctual kicked in. I decided to hoard it. Because I did not know when I would be attended to again or when I would next see food or water.

The Long Wait

I checked in around 10 a.m., and by 8 p.m., I was still in the holding area. I was on a drip, so hydration was not an issue, but hunger started gnawing at me. The porridge they offered seemed depressing and I did not want it to add to my already bleak situation.

Eventually, I caved. I tore open the strawberry bun wrapper and resigned myself to the absurdity of the situation and took a bite.

To my surprise, it was not terrible.

It was not great, either, but for something I had sworn off for decades, it was passable. Hunger has a way of changing your standards, and in that moment, I learned to lower mine.

Lessons from the Strawberry Bun

This incident stuck in my memory because for me to eat a strawberry bun was to stoop to a personal low. And yet, it did not taste as bad as I remembered.

The whole experience was absurd but oddly instructive. It’s funny how hunger, or life’s challenges, can strip away your preferences and preconceived notions.

What seemed unacceptable before suddenly becomes manageable.