Cinnamon Rolls and Patience

My mom doesn't like taking her medications any longer. The nurses said use yogurt or applesauce -- even melted ice cream, but she's gotten wise to these schemes. I know it seems impossible -- sometimes she's not even sure who I am -- but she's figured out how to find the pills. So, I've had to get creative. I hide them in grapes, chunks of mango, and most recently pieces of banana bread. But I tried the banana bread again yesterday and she pulled the pill from her mouth and looked at me as if to say "Nice try. Better luck tomorrow." So now it's 'tomorrow' and I'm stopping to buy her favorite thing. Cinnamon rolls. Hopefully, they will still have a pan of them left. She only likes the plain vanilla ones. She doesn't care for the caramel-iced ones -- those are too sweet. And don't even get me started on her aversion to raisins. Although I can hardly say anything about that. I also dislike raisins. And you can't pick around them because they give off their essence to everything they touch.

So, the pills are easily solved. The patience isn't. It's hard to show up every morning and work all day for someone who no longer has the ability to show gratitude. And I know she doesn't. I remind myself of this all the time. But I'm still serving someone who glares at me or at least looks at me suspiciously a good deal of the time. I still have to prepare meals and do laundry and everything else this takes. And so I pray for more patience every morning and night and sometimes in the in-between times when I'm feeling tired or stressed or forgotten.

Fingers crossed there are still cinnamon rolls. 

(Posted Jun 27th, 2024)