Since my grandma died, my eighty-nine-year-old grandad has stubbornly decided to live on his own. He is still quite able and independent, so the family respects this, but I am often on-call to deal with anything he needs help with, including medical appointments.
One Friday evening, I get a call from my mother who lives five hours away.
Mum: “You need to meet [Grandad] at the hospital!”
Me: “Oh, no! What happened?!”
Mum: “He found blood in his stool and he’s going to get checked out. I told him to wait for you but you know what he’s like. Please meet him there and wait with him.”
I head out without delay and meet him there. The doctor is very quick and schedules the tests. I wait with him throughout the night; sadly, the place is very busy, and we have to wait until midnight. He gets called in for the test, and we are told to wait for a phone call on Monday.
We head home, and as my grandad settles in, I do what I usually do when I visit him and check his fridge and cupboards to assess his food supply. My grandma was the cook, and since her passing, my grandad only really cooks ready-meals, which he enjoys, so everyone is fine. I open the fridge and spot something I can’t ignore.
Me: “Grandad, why are there ten packs of chopped beetroot in the fridge?”
Grandad: *Quite proudly* “They were on sale as they’re going off soon! I bought all of them!”
Me: “Have you been eating all of these? For how long? There is a lot here!”
Grandad: “I couldn’t be bothered to cook the other day, so I just had a big bowl of the beetroot while I watched the telly.”
Me: *Bridging my nose* “Grandad, do you think the ‘blood’ you saw in your stool might have been the ridiculous amount of beetroot you’ve been eating for the last few days?”
My grandad sits there for a moment until he realises what I have implied.
Grandad: “Now that I think about it…”
On Monday morning, the hospital calls and confirms my hypothesis when I tell them. Their response?
Hospital: “At least he’s getting his antioxidants!”