What I Have To Look Forward To
The moment after polishing off my last journal entry around noon of Monday, I came out to visit with my grandparents here in Mobile. I didn't expect to stay long, but after looking at my plans for the week, I decided to stay non stop for three days and three nights. As I began to explain in my last entry, my grandfather is fifteen years into his battle with Alzheimer's. One of his siblings has already died from it.
I have been given much praise from the family for being able to "put up" with the eccentricity of my father's parents. Apparently, they are seen as tough to handle by the family. I can't blame them for thinking that. It's like living in the movie 50 First Dates and dealing with that 10 Second Tom guy meeting you again and again and constantly asking what's going on, where he is and where family members, living or dead, are. That's the best way I can describe it. The only real difference is that my grandfather is pushing 80 and is on medication for everything.
This is a very very hard post to make. I want to be objective without sounding cold and unfeeling. I worry that if I get too emotional about this, I'll regret ever wanting to be objective. Regardless, it saddens me so horribly to think about what my grandmother goes through for this man. But then I realize that they are doing good. She cares for him and enjoys his company. They eat home cooked meals three times a day. They live in a fantastic neighborhood in a two-story house that was paid for in full at closing in cash. They obviously love each other. They are more civil and patient towards each other than most of the couples I've seen can ever dream about. Yea, the constant questions and re-introductions would grate on anyone, but she has learned to understand him and they do get along. I must remember that he is still there but the last 15 years are fading. Sometimes he thinks he's actually in the past, when he lived in Minnesota or New England. Sometimes he forgets I'm in the room and asks who I am. Sometimes he remembers exactly who I am and tells me a story about his days in WWII as we watch a war movie. Today, we drove the 100 miles east to Eglin Air Force Base in Florida to have a lunch in the base where my grandfather spent much of his military career. Right now, I doubt a moment of the whole trip is still with him, but not two hours ago did he remember who I was and that I'm visiting. Somehow, for a moment that stuck with him, I was really Adam, and all the sudden he got it. I clung to hope but I saw that I needn't for regardless of his remembrance of me, his wife was his true base. As long as she is here, everything will be okay. Everything will be wonderful.
I will treasure these three days as few of my family members will ever get the chance to understand. For, if my siblings and I inherit this disease as may be in our genes, this is what we have to look forward to and we should be so lucky in the love of a spouse. Yes, it was rough and boring and hard and tedious and everything my relatives warned me about. But, at the end of the day, I have to walk away and say that this house is good. The people inside don't rely on anyone but themselves. They are warm and happy and living with Alzheimer's, not waiting to die from it.
We should all be so lucky.
I have been given much praise from the family for being able to "put up" with the eccentricity of my father's parents. Apparently, they are seen as tough to handle by the family. I can't blame them for thinking that. It's like living in the movie 50 First Dates and dealing with that 10 Second Tom guy meeting you again and again and constantly asking what's going on, where he is and where family members, living or dead, are. That's the best way I can describe it. The only real difference is that my grandfather is pushing 80 and is on medication for everything.
This is a very very hard post to make. I want to be objective without sounding cold and unfeeling. I worry that if I get too emotional about this, I'll regret ever wanting to be objective. Regardless, it saddens me so horribly to think about what my grandmother goes through for this man. But then I realize that they are doing good. She cares for him and enjoys his company. They eat home cooked meals three times a day. They live in a fantastic neighborhood in a two-story house that was paid for in full at closing in cash. They obviously love each other. They are more civil and patient towards each other than most of the couples I've seen can ever dream about. Yea, the constant questions and re-introductions would grate on anyone, but she has learned to understand him and they do get along. I must remember that he is still there but the last 15 years are fading. Sometimes he thinks he's actually in the past, when he lived in Minnesota or New England. Sometimes he forgets I'm in the room and asks who I am. Sometimes he remembers exactly who I am and tells me a story about his days in WWII as we watch a war movie. Today, we drove the 100 miles east to Eglin Air Force Base in Florida to have a lunch in the base where my grandfather spent much of his military career. Right now, I doubt a moment of the whole trip is still with him, but not two hours ago did he remember who I was and that I'm visiting. Somehow, for a moment that stuck with him, I was really Adam, and all the sudden he got it. I clung to hope but I saw that I needn't for regardless of his remembrance of me, his wife was his true base. As long as she is here, everything will be okay. Everything will be wonderful.
I will treasure these three days as few of my family members will ever get the chance to understand. For, if my siblings and I inherit this disease as may be in our genes, this is what we have to look forward to and we should be so lucky in the love of a spouse. Yes, it was rough and boring and hard and tedious and everything my relatives warned me about. But, at the end of the day, I have to walk away and say that this house is good. The people inside don't rely on anyone but themselves. They are warm and happy and living with Alzheimer's, not waiting to die from it.
We should all be so lucky.