SH and I stopped to see my grandmother, who has been a little under the weather, on our way to and from the Apostle Islands last weekend. We were happy to see that she had gone to lunch and eaten her butterscotch pudding on Tuesday, as she has been bedridden and not eating. Still, nothing tastes good to her, which is a shame, because shouldn't you be able to eat what ever you want when you are old?
My aunt Rita, who is pretty much my granma's main caretaker, said that the home tried to put my grandmother on a restricted diet because the doctor said something about diabetes a year ago. My granma pitched a fit when they fed her that no-sugar, no-salt stuff and said she would move out if she didn't get some decent food. It must have been pretty bad for my mellow, sweet, go-along grandmother to protest.
Honestly. If you are almost 96 years old, what is the point of restricting your intake of anything? When I am that old, I intend to get fat, start smoking, and develop a taste for scotch. SH just wishes I would do all of that now.
The working life: The rat race
2 days ago