In Natalie Babbitt's children's story, The Search for Delicious, the prime minister is writing a dictionary. "Affectionate is your dog" and "Bulky is a big bag of boxes" are met with general approval from the court, but when he writes, "Delicious is fried fish", the king objects. Delicious is apples. No, says the queen, it is Christmas pudding. Beer! says the general. Discontent ensues, and soon there are brawls in the street over the definition of delicious.
The prime minister's young son, Gaylen, sets off on horseback to survey the kingdom in hopes that enough people will agree on what is delicious for the prime minister to complete his entry. Just ahead of him, the queen's brother rides out to foment civil war in the kingdom.
I won't spoil the ending, but I will reveal my choice for Delicious:
Ice chips. Delicious is ice chips after several hours of abstinence from food and drink during which the contents of one's guts were exploding from several orifices.
D is also, as it happens, for Dysentery, specifically the food-borne shigella variety. And, because one million children in the world do not have the benefit of intravenous drips as I did, D is for Doctors without Borders, and Donate.