Thoughts on French Toast

This is what I think about when I haven't had solid food for almost five full days:

I'm thinking about it today; earlier in the week I couldn't bear the thought of any food.

I'm in the hospital with a bowel obstruction.  Not going into any of the gory details, except that it involved vomiting.
This is the sixth ( or maybe seventh or eighth episode ) of this misery since June 2014. I kept thinking it was a norvirus  that kept coming back, but this round was much worse, and involved pain.
So I went to the ER and they did a CAT Scan and it showed this obstruction. The gastroenterologist tells me that every episode was caused by this same thing: a relatively obstruction that reverses itself.
I'm going to need to have surgery for this, but I don't know when.

So after three days of IV fluids and bedrest, I am feeling better and waiting for the doctor to come in and tell me his verdict.

Last night I had some clear liquids, and this morning I had a breakfast of "low residue" food.  French toast was on the list, so I ordered it.

It wasn't low residue; the texture was more like Styrofoam.  I ate about four bites and quit.

It was like the Texas French toast the food service serves at my house: prepared a long time ago, frozen , thawed Styrofoam with syrup:

It's not that I yearn for fancy French toast ala IHOP.

I yearn for old fashioned French toast the way my mother made it: just plain white bread with egg, milk, and cinnamon, with a little syrup.

This photo comes close, but it still looks more stiff and dry than I'm envisioning.

So when I get home, maybe I'll make some.