Grandma Tales: Dignity, Independence, Talking Dogs

Grandma is having a hard day.

Her light was on at 5:30 a.m., and she stuck her head out several times, long before light of morning, to inquire about what time it was, whether it was time for dinner, and who it was that was singing. When she does this (almost every morning), she shouts out to no one in particular. She shouts because she doesn't have her "ears" (hearing aids) in yet. And of course, we have to shout back even louder to answer her. It's quite jolting to wake up to all this noise, even if you're the one making it.

At 9:30 a.m. I heard Grandma talking in her room. I thought maybe it was Jeremy visiting with her, but she was alone. I happened to see the blinking light on the phone system indicating she was calling someone. That's a great thing, except that all of the people she would call live in different time-zones, and all of them would be sleeping. After waking someone, she talked in circles for a minute, then said, "Well, OK then. It's no fun getting old." and hung up.

She came out a few minutes ago, at 10:45, and asked it I'd had lunch. I said it was a little too early for lunch, especially since I knew Grandma had only finished breakfast about an hour and a half ago. She giggled and proceeded to fetch a can of soup to fix. She put it in the pan, added water, and put it on the stove, all the while singing/talking in a kind of ninety-year-old rap, "The angels beckon me from heaven's open door," (here's where she starts kind of rapping), "And I can't feel at home in the world anymore."

She sang for several minutes before realizing that her soup was not getting hot because she had forgotten to turn on the burner. She turned it on and now is enjoying some chicken noodle between stanzas.

Grandma is slipping.

The other night Linda found her brushing her teeth, sans toothbrush or paste--just using her finger. Her brush and paste were within inches of her other hand on the bathroom counter.

Several times now Grandma has heard the new dog, Marzipan, speaking to her. Once, according to Grandma, Marzi said, "9-1-1!"  (Grandma does not know what 911 means at all, which makes the whole thing that much more remarkable). When Marzi spoke to her, Grandma answered, "Well, I just can't believe that!"  And Marzi answered back, "Believe it!"

The struggle: how much do we do to fix and protect? How much "help" is really robbery? How much does dignity depend on independence? Our decision has always been to err on the side of not helping in favor of the satisfaction of Grandma being able to handle as many aspects of life as possible. But sometimes that tact has been hard to hold. The more we do for her, the less she remembers how to do. She doesn't like it when we do some things for her, but she loves to be waited on, too.

It will not get easier.