Why my quesadilla maker made me cry.
I was catching up on Grey's Anatomy Tuesday night, and somehow the combination of Derek's Alzheimer's study and Steve making quesadillas for dinner (I know!) had me in tears. Tears dripping off the end of my nose, tears. For a good hour.
My Grandma Peggy (my mom's mom) is my second grandma with Alzheimer's. I watched my Grandma Jennie suffer from the disease for a decade before she passed away last year. Grandma Peggy has always been a HUGE part of my life.
Wednesday was always my favorite day of the week when I was a kid, because it was Grandma Peggy's day off work, and every week she'd spend Wednesdays at our house.
She did crazy things like... make us do the Can-Can in the park by her house so she could take pictures, or the Hokey Pokey in the middle of Midway Airport as a welcome to our cousins, arriving from Kansas. She put on plays and fed us ice cream with homemade chocolate sauce for breakfast and made us line up smallest to biggest for every family reunion. She always said, "Do it for me. You'll miss me when I'm gone!"
One time, at about age seventy-five, she got off the train at the wrong stop (the one before hers), and found herself with no cell phone to reach my Grandpa, who was waiting for her at the right stop. So she hitch-hiked. My five-foot-tall nothing of a Grandma hitch-hiked to the train station.
In college, she would call, talk non-stop for about ten minutes without letting me get a word in, and then say, "Well, I'm sure you have a lot to do so I'll let you go. Goodbye!" And hang up. And I would be left trying to stop her before she disconnected to tell her that no, I really did want to talk. Sometimes I'd end up having to call her back.
I love my Grandma Peggy so much. My childhood would not have been the same without her (and Grandpa), and I'm so lucky we lived a quick 45-minute drive from them. I would not have had as much fun, despite any eye-rolling I may have done at the time.
Now, she has good days and bad ones. There's still that firecracker spark of herself in her eyes, she's still funny and loving and kind, but I can see it slipping away. I can see her forgetting. So Alzheimer's makes me sad, pretty much any time I think about it.
And then the quesadilla maker. Five or six years ago, Grandma discovered a quesadilla maker and got so excited about it she bought one for each of her grandkids for Christmas. Up until then, I made quesadillas in a skillet on the stove. Once I got the maker, I pretty much stopped making them altogether because the maker seemed like so much more of an effort, but I felt guilty making them without it.
So when Steve made quesadillas (on the stove) while we were watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy dealing pretty heavily with Alzheimer's, I kind of lost it. I attribute this reaction to being generally extra-stressed out about work and the wedding, and extra-hormoney (isn't it great to be female?).
So last night, we made quesadillas again. With the maker. And I'm going to call Grandma Peggy on my way to work this morning and tell her about it.
My Grandma Peggy (my mom's mom) is my second grandma with Alzheimer's. I watched my Grandma Jennie suffer from the disease for a decade before she passed away last year. Grandma Peggy has always been a HUGE part of my life.
Wednesday was always my favorite day of the week when I was a kid, because it was Grandma Peggy's day off work, and every week she'd spend Wednesdays at our house.
She did crazy things like... make us do the Can-Can in the park by her house so she could take pictures, or the Hokey Pokey in the middle of Midway Airport as a welcome to our cousins, arriving from Kansas. She put on plays and fed us ice cream with homemade chocolate sauce for breakfast and made us line up smallest to biggest for every family reunion. She always said, "Do it for me. You'll miss me when I'm gone!"
One time, at about age seventy-five, she got off the train at the wrong stop (the one before hers), and found herself with no cell phone to reach my Grandpa, who was waiting for her at the right stop. So she hitch-hiked. My five-foot-tall nothing of a Grandma hitch-hiked to the train station.
In college, she would call, talk non-stop for about ten minutes without letting me get a word in, and then say, "Well, I'm sure you have a lot to do so I'll let you go. Goodbye!" And hang up. And I would be left trying to stop her before she disconnected to tell her that no, I really did want to talk. Sometimes I'd end up having to call her back.
I love my Grandma Peggy so much. My childhood would not have been the same without her (and Grandpa), and I'm so lucky we lived a quick 45-minute drive from them. I would not have had as much fun, despite any eye-rolling I may have done at the time.
Now, she has good days and bad ones. There's still that firecracker spark of herself in her eyes, she's still funny and loving and kind, but I can see it slipping away. I can see her forgetting. So Alzheimer's makes me sad, pretty much any time I think about it.
And then the quesadilla maker. Five or six years ago, Grandma discovered a quesadilla maker and got so excited about it she bought one for each of her grandkids for Christmas. Up until then, I made quesadillas in a skillet on the stove. Once I got the maker, I pretty much stopped making them altogether because the maker seemed like so much more of an effort, but I felt guilty making them without it.
So when Steve made quesadillas (on the stove) while we were watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy dealing pretty heavily with Alzheimer's, I kind of lost it. I attribute this reaction to being generally extra-stressed out about work and the wedding, and extra-hormoney (isn't it great to be female?).
So last night, we made quesadillas again. With the maker. And I'm going to call Grandma Peggy on my way to work this morning and tell her about it.