In which I wax maturely about age...

Or I don't mind getting older, I just don't want to be old.

Be wise!

A few weeks ago I spent time alone with just my grandmother.  We had to do some business at the bank, a simple task but one made a bit more complicated due to the fact that my grandmother has Alzheimer's Disease.  Surprisingly, my trip with Bubbe, as The Bee, my tween-aged daughter, calls her, was pretty pleasant.  Our transaction was completed within a matter of minutes and with only minimal fuss.  While Bubbe was confused, the confusion was not accompanied by suspicion or arguments.  Bubbe was actually respectful of me and was able to believe that yes, I am a grown woman and not trying to steer her wrong. 
 
Quite honestly I don't spend much time alone with my grandmother.  When she visits, I defer most of her care  and the time spent with her, to my mother.  My mother ensures that she gets her medication, bathes, eats.  I will assist when my mom is still hooked up to her dialysis machine and on the occasion that it is just Bubbe and I but the closeness that The Bee has with my mom is no longer a factor with my grandmother and myself.  As we went about the morning it struck me that whatever I do with my grandmother is being watched by The Bee, my nine year old, and that this is truly a case of do as I say, not as I do. 

On the occasions when I know my grandmother is coming to stay for a bit, without exaggeration I feel my heart race, my breath catch and feel anxious as I think of what the visit will bring. Sadly, she has become a shell of a woman as she her mind is stolen by Alzheimer's disease. When I look at her I no longer see the grandmother who used to sneak candies to me in church or ride the subway with me when my sister and I  were in high school.  While there are days that she is sharp and with it, speaking fondly of her day at "The Harbor" (a senior day center she goes to) or sharing adventures as a child.  These days are overshadowed by the times when she is confused and needy, angry at not being able to remember or frustrated with a lost idea or thought. We can sit and chat about when she was a young mother and when she was a young person, working and trying to be "cool!" But again, the dark times always lurk, turning her into a confused ball of person, asking the day or time or where she is several times in a few minutes, not even realizing that she has already asked these questions. It often feels as if I am in the company of another child and NOT my octogenarian grandmother as she defiantly refuses to consent to the simplest request.
 
I wish I could say that trip ended with a revelation that I need to spend more time with Bubbe.  The Bee is always excited to see her and I wish I could mirror that excitement. Instead I find that I have scheduled extra outings for The Bee and I in an effort to only have minimal contact.  Do i feel good about this? No but I do think that if I can keep my grandmother';s memory pleasant than I can work towards a better time with her.  When I ask The Bee why she is so excited to see Bubbe she shrugs and responds, it's good to see her.  I wish I felt that way.  My thoughts are jerked back to previous visits in which she has yelled, cursed and accused.  I want to be patient and start the next visit with new thoughts but one miscommunication and it all comes tumbling down.

 

Again I turned towards The Bee and try to model her actions.  Patiently she runs errands, sits and chats with Bubbe and is a marvelous young lady.  I promise myself that during the next visit I will be patient, calm and make fresh start.  This is being put to the test with a visit next week.

Wish me luck.

Original post to Philly Moms.