(no subject)
Do you ever feel that you have so much to tell that it's overwhelming? Speaking from a "I haven't been on LJ for a while so where do I start" stance. So I guess I'll just start with today, my grandma.
After about a year of her living with both my parents and my aunt and uncle, they had decided that yes it is too difficult for them to take care of her. She needs way more than what we can give her, even though they had had a hospice aid come every day. Gma has been in an alzheimer's home for about 3 or 4 months now, one of the best in the state.
She's not doing so good, but then again, I suppose not bad for a woman about to turn 92. I've been going to see her, and of course, feel so guilty that I have been a bad granddaughter and not gone to visit until this month. Last week, we all thought she was about to go, she's so frail and so weak. When I walked in, she was hooked up to a suction machine that helps her breathe and get fluids from her chest and throat. Today, I walk in and she is much better. My cousin and his fiancee were there. Gma was sitting in her wheel chair at a table in the living room and my cousin was feeding her. She can't have any more solids, so pudding and oatmeal were it... She also can't have liquids, like regular water. The nurses have to add a gelatin like substance to her water so that she doesn't choke. After a couple minutes, I took over giving her pudding. It was weird. This is a woman who is strong and stubborn, in the best way possible, who is being worn down by life. This is a woman who walked a mile every day, lived on her own, drove her own car, and supported herself until she had a stroke at the age of 89. She was so independent, it was ridiculous. To see someone of her calibur at a point where she is complete incapasitated speech is no longer an option, just blows my mind and breaks my heart. I kept thinking about all the times we would get together at her apartment and she'd put on a record (!) and we'd all dance.
I held her hand, and it was so soft. You can see the bones of her fingers as her skin has gotten thin, possibly from not eating so much. But it still felt just as I had remembered as a child. Soft, warm, the best hand to hold. I thought about all the times she had held my hand.
As I was getting up to leave, I didn't tell her goodbye, just that I loved her very much and gave her a kiss on the cheek. My dad said she smiled, something he hadn't seen from her in a while. I even think she tried to kiss me back, but she has had a series of little strokes, so her facial movement is limited. The smile was the big thing. I love my grandma.
After about a year of her living with both my parents and my aunt and uncle, they had decided that yes it is too difficult for them to take care of her. She needs way more than what we can give her, even though they had had a hospice aid come every day. Gma has been in an alzheimer's home for about 3 or 4 months now, one of the best in the state.
She's not doing so good, but then again, I suppose not bad for a woman about to turn 92. I've been going to see her, and of course, feel so guilty that I have been a bad granddaughter and not gone to visit until this month. Last week, we all thought she was about to go, she's so frail and so weak. When I walked in, she was hooked up to a suction machine that helps her breathe and get fluids from her chest and throat. Today, I walk in and she is much better. My cousin and his fiancee were there. Gma was sitting in her wheel chair at a table in the living room and my cousin was feeding her. She can't have any more solids, so pudding and oatmeal were it... She also can't have liquids, like regular water. The nurses have to add a gelatin like substance to her water so that she doesn't choke. After a couple minutes, I took over giving her pudding. It was weird. This is a woman who is strong and stubborn, in the best way possible, who is being worn down by life. This is a woman who walked a mile every day, lived on her own, drove her own car, and supported herself until she had a stroke at the age of 89. She was so independent, it was ridiculous. To see someone of her calibur at a point where she is complete incapasitated speech is no longer an option, just blows my mind and breaks my heart. I kept thinking about all the times we would get together at her apartment and she'd put on a record (!) and we'd all dance.
I held her hand, and it was so soft. You can see the bones of her fingers as her skin has gotten thin, possibly from not eating so much. But it still felt just as I had remembered as a child. Soft, warm, the best hand to hold. I thought about all the times she had held my hand.
As I was getting up to leave, I didn't tell her goodbye, just that I loved her very much and gave her a kiss on the cheek. My dad said she smiled, something he hadn't seen from her in a while. I even think she tried to kiss me back, but she has had a series of little strokes, so her facial movement is limited. The smile was the big thing. I love my grandma.