He Has To Eat

The mother-in-law has been successfully treated for bladder cancer. Quarterly visits with her Urologist are mandatory.

This morning was a little crazy. I reminded her of the appointment. She was frying up breakfast and I lost it a bit ... "You don't have time to do this."

With a steel spine and a strong voice, she informed me, "He has to eat."

This is southern and/or farm hand mentality. Of course he has to eat. But, he could eat a bowl of cereal and a banana. Have some fruit.

He doesn't care what is put in front of him. He has been well trained and with every meal, he tells her it was "excellent." He says this no less than 10 times. If she ignores him and rolls her eyes (from living with me too long,) he says it more often and louder. "THANK YOU LOVE, THAT WAS EXCELLENT!" It could be a piece of toast on a paper plate and it would be the most excellent meal he's ever had, as long as dessert and coffee were on the docket.

Yesterday, I caught her loading up the garage refrigerator with butter. I'm not kidding -- at least 5 cartons with 4 sticks each. We are in butter abundance.

At their age, I cannot change their eating habits. Truly, it's none of my business.

She never sits down for breakfast. She eats over the sink and looks out the window. She makes sure he is taken care of and rolls her eyes. I know she loves him with every fiber of her being.

I am crossing my fingers, saying a prayer and knocking on wood. I don't care what he had for breakfast -- I just want a good report from the Urologist.