Monthly Archives: September 2012

Sharing Embarrassing

I wasn’t going to share the following story on this blog.  Oh I shared it with a couple of close friends and we had a laugh.  You know the kind of laugh where we have all been but it would be embarrassing if everyone knew.

Then I told a friend who tells everyone’s story.  I told her not to share and she replied but it’s so precious.  OK, precious is the last word I would use.

Well, since you may have heard it from the grapevine, I’d like to tell you my version.  For I was the one that was there.

Gpa will tell me how grateful he is when we are in the bathroom.  He’ll say things like, “You are the best dresser” or

“I am going to pay you for taking such good care of me.” or

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

So on this day he said the last one.

I replied, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I don’t pull your pants down.”

‘um, cough, well, no.”

 

Would you call that precious??????!!!!!!

 

Things I Hate

I hate that when Gpa sleeps, he breathes very shallow and it takes a minute to be assured he is still alive.

I hate that his stomach does not tell his brain that he has eaten.

I hate that he thinks he is starving to death.

I hate that people think I’m being mean by bundling him up in 107 degree weather.  (I don’t care what they think, I just get tired of explaining he has no body fat and is cold all the time)

I hate that he is losing his vocabulary and struggles to tell me about the cookie he wants to eat.

I hate that he doesn’t respond to: “Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa, George, George, George”

I hate the he doesn’t know when he’s going to the bathroom.

I hate that he can’t tell the old family stories anymore.  Even the time I stuck a stick in his car keyhole and it broke off.

I hate that my grandbabies will only know the demented version of Gpa.

And I forget all about the above when he looks at me with that twinkle in his eye and smiles.

 

An Old Man at Any Age

Gpa and I have a particular conversation.  It doesn’t happen every day and I use it to check in with what he is thinking.

When I ask him, “How are you?”

He’ll reply, “Old.”

“How old?”

Then the answer varies.  Quite often, he’ll say 97, which is the age he was when he was diagnosed with dementia.  I think he’s tired when he  tells me he’s 500 or a million.  Once he told me he was 45.  Nice, he’s younger than I am.

Last week he told me he was 700.  Then he self corrected and said, “that is a lie.”  He corrected himself and told me he was 7.  I told him that he should be going to school and asked if he wanted me to enroll him.  He nodded.

Then I asked if he wanted school supplies like pens and pencils.  “No, that’s cheating.”  hmm

The next day he said he was old then said he was 37.  Um that is not old!   Well maybe to a 7-year-old.

I wonder if he’d telling me he’s in memories of that age.

 

A Cookie, a Tomato, and a Toad

It is 5:00 am on a Saturday of a 3 day holiday and I am up.  Not that I want to be.  Gpa has tried to change his pajama pants with a shirt.  He can’t figure out why they won’t pull up.  In the bathroom he has told me he is hungry.

You can’t tell the baby to go back to sleep when it is hungry.  It’ll just cry more.

So he now has pants on, and eaten breakfast.  While I was at it, I fed the dogs.  Next is a nap.

It fascinates me what his demented brain retains and what he cannot cope with.  Though it doesn’t stress him out too much.  He just kept trying to figure out how to pull up the shirt tail.

Yesterday he had a check up at the doctor’s office.  He got a good report and on the way to the car, he told me he was hungry.  No surprise there.  He wanted a cookie.

Once in the car, he added a tomato to his list and then said toad.

At first I  thought how funny that he wants a toad.  But if you put the request in the context of the last two weeks, it makes for an interesting situation.

We had toad in the hole a couple of weeks ago at the garden for breakfast before harvesting for the food pantry.  He ate two.  Then that Friday we met Lillie and a friend for lunch.  I saw that toad in the hole was on the menu.  The restaurant had given it a name but we had a discussion about toad in the hole.  She ordered it.

And here Gpa is, asking for a toad.  It made me feel better because the day before when trying to ask for a cookie or a cracker, he said he wanted a crackie.  I thought, oh here we go, losing more vocabulary.  It could be he just wanted both.