1-800-Schwans?

Tonight at Mom's was the typical controlled chaos of visitors coming and going, and the sweet sisters from the ward bringing in food. Caitlin's in-laws were over to make a cast of Mom and Caitlin's hands as a keepsake. After they finished, Mom decided she wanted to take a shower and get cleaned up and as she was heading to the stairs the doorbell rang. Since she was closest she answered, in her nightgown and oxygen tube. It was the poor Schwan's delivery man wondering if she wanted to place an order. She chuckled and said, "Well, here is where we are. I'm dying of cancer and am on home hospice care until the end and I can't really eat anything. We also have people bringing the rest of the family food... so... we don't really need anything right now." The poor man is probably going to need some serious therapy. His jaw just dropped and he stood there sputtering for a moment. Then mom said, "I know my husband loves your stuff and before I die I am going to teach him to order through the internet so that he will have nice easy stuff to cook for himself." (Like my dad couldn't take care of feeding himself any day of the week...) The delivery man stuttered out, "I... I... I don't know what to say." To which mom replied, "What you do is go back to corporate and tell them that we love your products and they have been a life saver to a woman going through chemo for the last year." At this point I stepped in and let him know she was sincere, but also heavily medicated and her brain-to-mouth filter doesn't always work very well. The rest of us were laughing hysterically, but there might be an opening for a Schwan's route driver in my parent's neighborhood very soon.