The morning I found my mother’s blood pressure medication dissolved in her coffee was the wake-up call we both needed. “I hate swallowing pills,” she confessed, stirring the murky mixture. “So I’ve been crushing them up for months now.” My heart sank—some medications should never be crushed, including the time-release one now ruined in her…
The morning routine at Shirley’s Middletown ranch house has evolved into something of a ritual. Coffee brews while she arranges seven translucent orange bottles on her kitchen counter, the early light catching each plastic container like small amber lanterns. “This one’s for my heart,” she says, tapping the tallest bottle. “These two are for blood…