Not a Good Day for Grandma--Or For Anyone Else Who is Around Her

My father quietly summed it up as "it's not a good day for Grandma."

On Saturday, by the time I had arrived in Ridgecrest with Grandma, I was starving. So, I convinced Grandma to go to lunch with me. As we ordered drinks, she said that she was very hungry too.

After the meal, Grandma left the waitress a paltry tip of about ten percent. I told Grandma to go ahead to the SUV, and I would give the server some cash. When I walked outside toward the SUV after giving money to the waitress, I saw Grandma, and she was trying to open the black sedan next to my car.

Later, I called Mom from Grandma's house, saying, "She doesn't even remember what vehicle she arrived in, does this sound like a person who should be living by herself?!" I listened to my voice go higher and higher in frustration.

"You're really beating that to death---" My grandmother interjected.

"I mean, she could get lost in town on a hot day, and get dehydrated and end up in the hospital!" I continued to talk to my mother. I had read from many different places that people with dementia were prone to wandering around at night, confused and sleepless. Assisted living facilities make sure that the doors to the outside are locked at night.

I can tell Grandma was becoming more and more angry with me.

"Oh, I would not!" Grandma exclaimed. "That's bull!" She looks at me, ugly and tense.

My mother and I accompanied my grandmother when she went back to her GP. The doctor told me plainly, "She's not a threat to herself or others, she's not in any immediate danger of dying, and she's not suffering--"

I cut the doctor off. "Of course, she's suffering!" Everyone looked surprised at my outburst. I then apologize to the doctor, telling her I was being rude.

In other words, the doctor defended my grandmother's right to make decisions regarding her care and her health--that essentially my grandmother wasn't sick enough to allow family members to make those decisions for her.

"Forcing her to take pills, that would be horrible!" The doctor tells us.

Maybe because I've been in a locked unit that I don't sympathize with Grandma's distaste of taking pills. There are worse events that could happen to her--going into renal failure because of uncontrolled diabetes--losing her sight--having a major stroke that leaves half of her body paralyzed--you know the type where you're soundless and drooling on yourself--or how about a heart attack? Granted, all of those medical emergencies could happen even if you took all your meds exactly as how the doctor prescribed them, but why would Grandma play roulette with her health?

My therapist (technically my case manager, but whatever) remains blissfully unaware of the strife surrounding my situation with Grandma. She left me a TXT-message the other day, saying that she hoped I was having a good time with Grandma. Yeah--everything is great!

So, as I was on the phone with my mother, I yelled to Grandma, "Fuck you!"

She told me to leave, so I left.