This Whole Getting Old Thing Sucks

I spent the last few days taking care of my grandmother while my mother was out of town. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s. It’s in the early stages, mostly just short-term memory loss. She still knows us all. She can remember the past, she just can’t remember what she was talking about 10 minutes ago or if she took her drugs this morning. She also has severe osteoporosis, which has left her somewhat immobile. She can get around with the help of a walker or cane, but she’s in danger of falling at any time and in bad pain. She’s also about six inches shorter than she used to be. (Excuse while I go take a calcium supplement.).

Taking care of my grandmother is a lot like taking care of a small child. Endless confusion and endless questions (except the small child will hopefully remember the answer you gave them five minutes ago and not keep asking the same question). But with a small child, no matter how frustrating they can be, there is at least the knowledge that in a few more years, they’ll be capable of real conversation. And with my grandmother, if she’s still around in a few years, she’ll be in even worse shape and remember even less.

Perhaps because caring for a Alzheimer’s-stricken elderly woman is rather stressful and also because I was in a strange bed, I had trouble sleeping. Of course, it’s sort of hard to sleep when an elderly woman wanders into your room at the crack of dawn and says, “Oh, I thought you were someone else.” I almost asked her who she thought I was, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer. During the hours that I did sleep, my subconscious decided to go into overdrive, resulting in a bunch of weird dreams. The highlights (or perhaps lowlights): I was trapped in some sort of glitzy shopping mall with an ex-boyfriend, unable to get back to Lord Kissington. People lived in the mall in these weird sort of pod apartments, that although small, were quite moderne and chic except that everyone in the mall could see into you apartment. The ex lived in one of these apartments, and his place freaked me out because there was a mouse running around that had a crazy huge fluffy tale that was sort of like a feather boa. It was fierce, but creepy. The next night I had a dream about a different ex. He had discovered my blog and thought that every post was about him, and I kept trying to explain that nothing was about him and that he didn’t matter enough for me to even blog about (mattering enough to dream about is apparently another matter entirely).

While staying with my grandmother, I watched a lot of shows that I never watch, stuff aimed toward the old folks like Wheel of Fortune and Live with Regis and Kelly. These shows made me want to rip the hair out of my head just to have something else to focus on. My grandmother doesn’t even seem to particularly like these shows, although she never misses them. Actually, the only thing she likes is The Sopranos, except that sometimes she can’t remember the name of it and calls it “that show with Tony.” I don’t think she really gets the concept of DVDs, so I had a lot of trouble explaining to her that no new episodes had arrived from Netflix. She will also sit through Law and Order. I think she enjoys stuff about people getting killed.

The last few days were incredibly draining, and I’m beyond glad that it’s the weekend and I don’t have to do anything. I plan on a lot of sitting around. And a lot of TV watching that doesn’t involve any programs geared at old people. And feeling really awful for my mother, who has to do this every day.