My Friends, the Rubber Gloves

So my mother-in-law has had some more accidents--it happens.  But here is the problem: we know what causes her discomfort; all she has to do is not eat fried fish.  Every one tells me to treat her like a child; I could stop a four year old from eating fried fish; it is not so easy with a ninety eight year old.  The matriarch is an adult, after all.  She can choose what she wants to eat and, particularly with my husband, she chooses to eat fish and chips.  I have begun to really hate Sundays. 

I read in the Guardian, a U.K. paper, that some seniors' homes in England will only accept new residents if they are on a feeding tube.  There is some debate about the merits of this convenience.  I don't see it as a convenience; I can't even see it as helpful.  I hate the accidents but, and I could be wrong, I would think feeding tubes would mean adult diapers.  If they are not necessary, why would a human being request that situation for another human being?  Because it is convenient?  I think not.  I do understand sometimes tubes are necessary for extreme dementia but I also understand the socialization of meal time can be beneficial. Growing old is not for the weak of heart.