tea for two

On my mother's last visit, she gave me three big boxes (each about the size of a wedding cake) of tea.

"I got this from Taiwan," she told me, "It will cure Robert's cancer. He has to drink it two times a day. When you run out, I'll get more."

I am slightly skeptical, especially since right after Robert's diagnosis my older sister sent me similiar "cure all" diet. That one consisted of Robert eating only cottage cheese and flaxseed oil. The doctors had quickly dismissed it.

But I look at the ingredients. With the exception of something called "champuignon," it seems pretty harmless. It can't hurt and, heck, Robert needs more fluids.

So, like the dutiful wife I am, I brew him this special tea. Robert wrinkles his nose.
"What is that?" he asks.
"It's tea for you," I say.
He takes a sip and shrugs, "It tastes like dirty sock water."

Obviously, it is a bit of struggle to make him drink it twice a day. In the morning I make and bring a cup to him. After a small sip to appease me, it usually just sits on the table.

In the meantime, I try to dream up ways to make it more tolerable. Maybe if I make it into a soup? Put wontons in it?

But I have a sneaking suspicion it is all for naught. Dirty sock water soup doesn't sound any more appetizing than dirty sock water tea.