May 26, 2021•375 words
Last night my gran fell while getting out of the bath. We've told her a thousand times that she needs to get handrails installed, she's had a few close calls in the past, but she refuses to change anything in the house since my uncle died. My grandfather and I helped her up and back into bed. Her ankle was swollen and had started to turn blue by this morning so we took her to the doctor. They did some x-rays and determined that she has cracked a bone in her ankle. He put her foot in a cast and prescribed some pain killers and an anti-inflammatory. She will probably have to stay in bed for a few weeks, which doesn't differ that much from her current routine but means that she will need more help around the house.
My grandfather cooked dinner tonight, probably for the first time in years. We usually eat together in the dining room but since gran is bedridden, we took her her's on a tray and my grandfather and I ate alone at the table. He tried to make spaghetti bolognese but the pasta was so under cooked that it was chewy and the sauce had a really strange, almost moldy taste. I ate as many mouth fulls as I could manage and then asked to be excused. He got a really angry look in his eye and told me this story from his childhood. It's the first time I've heard anything about his family life growing up.
"Me and my brothers weren't allowed to eat at the table," he said, "My mother and step father would eat together and whatever they didn't want, they'd leave for us. Sometimes there was nothing left so we'd sneak out at night and scavenge through rubbish bins to find something to eat. That's how I learnt to appreciate food."
After that he fell silent and went back to his rancid bolognese. I forced myself to eat the rest of the plate and gagged several times, which he ignored. I'm starting to wonder whether he took his medication today. My gran is usually the one who makes sure he does it and he has a history of flushing the pills down the toilet.