To eat or not to eat?

My father-in-law went to the hospital a few days ago. He had just returned from a weeklong stay, 4-5 days prior. He was treated for anemia, possible pneumonia, and coronary heart disease. He came home yesterday after treatment for hyperklemia (high potassium), chronic kidney failure, anemia, gastritis, and other conditions.

He has diabetes, high blood pressure, hypertension, a pacemaker (he had several heart attacks). He takes nearly a dozen medications.

He's 80.

Usually when he gets home from his twice-a-year hospital stays, the family begin their lectures: don't eat unhealthy foods, drink more water, walk more. Sit up. Don't always sleep.

His diet is "kept under control" for 2-3 weeks after he returns from the hospital.
Then the complaining begins. He'll say he can't stand the food. No one cares about his feelings. He says, he is dying. He gives my mother-in-law a full-blast guilt trip. While my sister-in-law and I encourage her to ignore his bad food requests, he gives her the "You don't care about me, don't you?" speech.

In our culture it is understood if an old person wants to eat the way they want, their wishes are to be respected for they may not have long to live. In theory it is a beautiful treatment of our elders, while in reality it is a speedy way to get to death.

While the family repeatedly tell him to keep his health in check, it all goes away after a few weeks. They have their own health issues to worry about.

My mother-in-law gives us her own guilt trip. "You will understand someday..." she says, speaking of restrictions we may face in food eventually.

My brother-in-law is probably the only one who actively tries to keep his health in check in this home. It's hard in a house where food is loved and prepared with care. The tastier the food is, the happier spirits are. While some enjoy the food spicy, others cannot tolerate it. While some eat this, others rather eat that. It can be tough living with many people.

I have my own spicy-limit food tolerance. But I ignore it most of the time until my body shuts down. Having to prepare separate meals makes me anxious. Nervous.

Maybe my mother-in-law sees it the same for my father-in-law. Maybe it makes her uncomfortable to serve him "less tasty" food than the rest of the family." It almost seems as if he is being restricted from food altogether.

When we are allowed to eat something "better than him" we are reminded to keep it hush-hush.

Meanwhile the family will make their routine visits. Health tips will keep pouring in. People will go on with their lives. And so will he until his body cannot take it anymore. Once again. (God knows best).

May God give us the wisdom strength and perserverance to carry on.

Half Married

I was married to a man who lives about 3 minutes from my parent's house. While I was thrilled to live nearby, I knew sometimes I'd want my distance.

Living close-by means getting to see my family at least once a week without any hassle. We attend the same mosque, generally know the same people, and all our family who live in Michigan live within a 5-10 minute drive.

That also means I cannot stay overnight as often, make shorter visits since I can "go over at anytime I want" theoretically. It's hard to plan things with just my husband and I. We'll get phone calls to go over and visit the parents.

The 3-minute distance is just enough distance to always need a ride (since I don't have my own car), have surprise visits, have to pick up phone calls at odd times to comfort tensions in the house, and get stuck in the middle of my old life as the "mediator."

Sometimes I feel half married. I still play an active role in my former home. I wonder what it'd be like to get away from both sides and start focusing more on myself and my future family.

I think I'll end up lonely (lol).

My grandmother

I used to think my grandmother didn't love me. She liked my cousins more and I could tell she liked my little sister, who didn't talk much. My grandmother is a tough-lover. She doesn't show affection easily. Her way of "loving us" is feeding us. She wouldn't nag and say, "Oh please eat," rather she'd say, "The food is good (because she cooked it)," to entice us.

When I was in high school I yelled at her once. I still regret that til this day. This particular incident was an argument between my parents. She listened, but as usual, didn't butt-in. I on the other hand expected her to say something and say what was right. If that day she was planning on doing it, I didn't give her the chance. Rather I said some mean things. I was frustrated. She never brought it up again. I didn't think she cared.

About two years ago I discovered an album at my parent's house. It had pictures of all my grandmother's grandchildren, including my 6th grade school picture. She carried the album in her bag. I was shocked! She did love me after all.

Last year my grandmother decided to go to Bangladesh all of a sudden. She loves her country. The whole family tried to talk her out of it. She wouldn't listen. That's how she is; she does what she puts her mind to. Our family gathered like a magnet at my youngest uncle's house, with whom she lives. As the luggage were being weighed, and my grandmother napped we made jokes about her.

All of us talked late into the night. We shared giggles, and watched each other nearly doze off. We wondered if she wanted us all to go to the airport the next morning. My cousin and I tip-toed into her room to ask her. With my grandmother you never know what would please or displease her. "You ask her...no you ask her," we said back and forth. We were scared.

The next morning we exchanged looks. "What are you guys standing around for. Get in the car," my grandmother said. "I guess we are going," I said to my cousin.Things had changed for both of us. We were both in our second year of marriage (at the time) and it had been ages since the family stayed over and spent time together.

Everyone was thinking: what if this is the last time we'd see my grandmother. At the airport we took family pictures (my grandmother doesn't always take pics). My cousin and I escorted my grandmother to the bathroom. I held her arm. "Oh don't do that," grandmother said. "Why not? What will happen if I hold you?" I asked. "It doesn't feel comfortable," she said casually. I let out a loud laugh. Just a thing she would say.

We gently put her in a wheelchair, hugged her and bid her goodbye. And everyone went back to normal again.

Mission: Impossible...unless it's Walmart?

I started today with a mission: To organize and re-decor my house with as little money as possible and only with things that I deem as necessary

Medical school's starting in one month insh'Allah (read: Please Don't Let anything go wrong God)...and I'm imagining my home, functioning in a way that is least stressful for my parents (Let's face it...what WILL they do without me?) and easily as possible to maintain for my brothers, though they probably don't have the word 'maintain' anywhere near their human capabilites (insert: Frustration)

I mean I'm not saying I'm the most organized or the type that's a walking Mr. Clean commercial either, but I'm not as bad as my brothers, or so I tell people.

So I went to the mall today looking for some things, like a new toothbrush holder, the kind that won't accumulate water at the bottom of it, and a new way to organize the spoon drawer so the contents don't explode on whatever idiotic guest that opens it, and a small china cabinet like thing so I can free up some space for dishes, and a dish rack so the dishes can dry on that instead on whatever else that is used as a replacement (my brothers are the geniuses in charge of the dishes) and a couple other things.

I hit up T.J.Maxx, see some promising things, call my mom and she says "You'll find it for cheaper at a Dollar store"

I hit up a Kitchen wares store, and my mom can't figure out how to work the texting on her phone to check the pictures I texted to her.

I hit up another store...Nothing. My mom calls and wants to know when I'm going to the Dollar store.

I go home. Grab my mom and go to DOLLAR KINGDOM. ( I dunno why that's in all caps, I'm kinda imagining those loud, ominous voices saying it followed by thunder)

And we don't find ANYTHING there.

Then Kmart. And it's actually, get this, the most expensive store.

At the very last minute before reaching home we hit up my mom's Disney World -Walmart.

And Thank God, I got to buy a couple of things . Yeah yeah, I have my qualms about Walmart too. But I dare not express them with the possiblity of my mom getting irritated and wacking any and all qualms out of me for the sake of "common sense"

Mothers.

To end my day, I almost hit a lady while reversing my car in the parking lot. It's not that I wasn't checking but this other car was standing behind me and I was staring at it and trying to reverse out so I wouldn't hit it. And I see a blur of pink speed walking. Brake my car. And hear a scream.
Well, it was more of a gasp-scream. And the blur of pink walks past me motioning at me...threateningly. I started apologizing to her. And the lady who was in the car that was distracting me rolls down her window, throws me a dirty stare, and asks the lady if she's okay.

Yeah I felt pretty bad. Thankfully she was fine. The blur of pink didn't see my car getting ready to get out probably cuz the car next to me was blocking her view and she was walking in a real hurry.

Mehh.. I started feeling a little better after some time. But my mom got really paranoid after that. She pointed out ANY and EVERY thing that was even trying to enter my field of vision the entire ride . (Insert: Exhausted by the time I reached home)


CC, out.