Yesterday, I was looking for Mrs. A to administer her meds. I saw the back of her wheelchair sticking out of Mrs. B's doorway, so I headed down the hall. When I arrived, I knocked on the door and then rubbed Mrs. A's shoulder so she would know I was there. Then I held her pills in front of her. With a big sigh, she took the cup from me.
"Now, you better take those, whether you want them or not," Mrs. B said, with a stern look in her eye as she struggled to keep her face straight.
"What are they?" Mrs. A. asked.
"Those are two purgative pills, now take them," Mrs. B answered for me.
Mrs. A laughed, put the pills in her mouth and accepted the glass of buttermilk from me. After she swallowed, she shook her head, squealed and kicked one of her legs out in front of her.
"Well, I hope those pills fix that," Mrs. B commented, raising her eyebrows.