I can’t remember exactly when it was, but I want to say sometime before Christmas, I tried a Peace Offering with GranGran. She had requested a chocolate pie on a particularly bad day. I hadn’t been responding well, so I decided to make amends and bake a chocolate pie. She refused to eat it….. Today, I was laying down for a very rare nap and I am telling you as soon as I got horizontal GranGran yells, “Get your lazy ass up and fix me a fried peach pie.” I laid there for a minute in denial of being spoken to in such a way, and when she wouldn’t shut up, I got up. Every bone in my body wanted to stand on principal and refuse to make the pies. But, then you just get to the point that some battles just aren’t worth fighting…. And, let’s be honest, my “lazy fat ass” wouldn’t mind having a fried peach pie either…

So, I got up and cooked the peaches with some cinnamon and sugar to make a good pie filling. I’ll admit I cheated on the crust. Canned Pillsbury butter tastin’ biscuists make great fried pie crust. So, I just rolled them out with some flour, and heated up the Crisco. And, oh my goodness…. Fried Peach Pie goodness, sprinkle some powdered sugar on top, and you are almost in heaven.

I take GranGran her warm yummy goodness with some extra filling on the side, and she says, “I was just kidding, I don’t want a fried pie.” Y’all half of Franklin probably saw the puff of steam and green stuff that came out of the top of my head. My kitchen is a complete disaster, I missed a nap, and you think you ain’t eatin’ this pie. Honey, sit your butt right down and eat the freakin’ pie before I go to jail. You’ll be glad to know I won’t be calling to ask for bail money as she made the best choice and ate the pie.

We’ve had one heck of a week besides the little pie incident. We found out on Tuesday that Gran’s pinky toe is so infected that it has moved to the bone and probably needs to be amputated. Problem with that plan is, her heart is in no shape for surgery. The podiatrist is consulting with the cardiologist, and we’ll go back in 3 weeks to see which is the lesser of 2 evils- surgery or bone infection. My original plan in life was to go to medical school. Let me just tell you that there are 2 things that made me realize that wasn’t a good plan for my life- I hate feet, and I don’t much care for old people. I didn’t see anyway to make it through medical school and residency without dealing with alot of both…. So, when we were with the podiatrist on Tuesday he wanted to show and explain to me why he was saying her toe needed to be amputated. I tried to tell him 3 times I didn’t need to see, I fully understood, and I completely trusted his medical opinion. He stuck her nasty, old, infected foot straight up in my face. You could SMELL the infection. And, let me just say I will likely never eat a Sonic hamburger again. Because, the one I had just eaten 15 minutes before came back to haunt me.

We left the doctor’s office with a surgical boot. Let’s just say I’ve heard “I really have to wear one of a kind shoes on each foot?” no less than 32,679 times this week. Gran wants her fancy pointy toe shoes. She doesn’t realize these shoes are the devil that caused her foot problems in the first place. The preferred shoes are now in the trash, a surgical boot on one foot, and her granny SAS loafers on the other foot. Not happy!

So, we muddle on. Daily I wonder, and she wonders why God has left her on this Earth to suffer so. She is tramped in a physically and mentally failing body. She knows just enough to know she is miserable. And, honestly, she is driving me crazy. I can’t remember jack crap these days. I didn’t know dementia was contagious, but apparently it is. But, I know God’s plan is good and perfect, and I’m fairly certain His purpose for her on this Earth at this point is to teach me a few lessons in grace and patience that I have refused to learn so far in my life.