I don't like that kind

When Miss Cathy was in rehab after she’d been discovered lying on the bathroom floor after three days back in January and then again in May after her knee replacement surgery she lost a lot of weight. It was hard to get her to eat the entire time she was in the hospital and no better the month(s) she was in rehab. She was depressed and so anxious about “going home” that she had little appetite, so the battle to get her to eat continued.

All told, she’s lost about 40 pounds since January. When she came home to stay she weighed 167 pounds and was very weak. For her height and age the weight loss should have been a good thing but she was very lethargic and hadn’t really followed the therapists instructions to exercise so the weight loss was more of a burden than a joy.

Since she’s been home her appetite has improved and the amount of food she’s eating has increased week by week. Where once I had to remind her to eat and coax her to finish she’s now eating with gusto.

We go out grocery shopping together but I will venture out on my own, returning home with things that are reminiscent of my old life and the way I used to live and eat.

She’ll say, “Oh, I don’t like that kind”, to which I usually reply good naturedly, “Good, because I didn’t buy this for you.” It could be something like Edy’s French Silk -low fat ice cream (my personal fav), multi-grain wheat bread, salads and low fat salad dressing, pepperoni pizza or low fat Fig Newton’s-any number of things.

Actually, it doesn’t matter what I bring into the kitchen because she’ll say she doesn’t like it but give her a few days (or hours) and she’s either eaten whatever I haven’t or she’s asking me to share it with her. She’s become very much like a “child” to my “parent” in that regard.

And, like a child I have to remember to not resent her when I open the fridge all ready to eat the last “whatever” I bought so that I can watch way too much television in my room, only to find that she’s eaten it. I remind myself that there were many a day when my brother and I were kids (and we were never “little” -big, brown balls of fat is a better description)………. anyway, there were many a time I’m sure she looked in the fridge or cupboard for a treat and believe you me, we never gave a thought that she might have wanted “one” or “some” so there was “none”.

She’s even commented several times that our roles are reversing, that she’s following me around like I used to follow her when I was a child and that she’s as “worrisome” (her word) as I was then, too. She calls it “payback”.

So now her eating is what I call a “luxury” problem. It’s not that she eats too much, although she’s bordering on it sometimes. Remember, on top of everything else going on she has diabetes, too. She doesn’t always make the wisest food choices for someone with a blood sugar problem. She’ll tell me that she wants to “treat” herself and I’ll find donuts or cinnamon buns in the shopping cart and nothing she buys is ever fat-free, low sugar or has a sugar substitute.

Or, heaven forgive me, if she hasn’t put it in the cart when we’re shopping together she’ll send me out to buy her an apple pie or buttery pound cake. And you know what, I do it because I’m happy to see her eating and enjoying herself. I figure there’s plenty of time to suggest moderation or to just flat out refuse to buy any sugary treats for her.

After all, if she wants another apple pie I can always say, “I don’t like that kind.”