Other Things I Never Thought I'd Say

It has happened. Ganny now lives in memory care. She fell a few months ago (no major injuries thank goodness), and when we took her to the doctor, we were informed that she could no longer live alone. Her dementia is too advanced. So while she is in pretty darn good shape physically - gets in and out of my SUV on her own, puts her clothes on quickly by herself, etc. - her memory impairment prevents her from taking care of herself in many ways. For example, we suspect there was a fall before this one due to minor bruises on her head, but she didn't remember falling and couldn't explain how the bruises got there.
The move from an independent retirement center to an assisted living facility had to be immediate since my husband and I both work and are unable to "watch" her during the day. Fortunately we had called a few facilities for information in the past, and had one in mind. We went straight there that afternoon after the doctor's visit, and tried to explain to Gan why this was her new home, and why she couldn't go back to her other apartment. Of course we tried to sugar coat it by saying it was cheaper and closer to us, neither of which are true. "I don't like this one. I think I'll just stay at the apartment I'm at," she said. I was not prepared for this conversation. This was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do: tell my elderly grandmother she couldn't choose where she wanted to live, that I had to leave her in this new place that she couldn't leave on her own. While I say she's pretty far gone mentally, she has enough of her wits about her to know that she doesn't want to be confined somewhere. I used the whole "just stay tonight and we'll talk about it again tomorrow" thing and prayed.
Once I managed to pry her arthritic hand off of my arm, the race was on to get her belongings moved. This was quite an undertaking. My saint of a husband handled the majority of the furnishings, while I tried to get what I knew she would need every day, like her makeup, clothes, and bedding. She wouldn't have much room at the assisted living facility for her things, so we had to prioritize. Her closet was pretty full of mostly moth-bitten, thrift-store-looking garments, (except they never made it to the thrift store, they've just been in her closet for forty years), so I pulled the most familiar things that I knew she wore often, and sent the rest to Goodwill. Mind you I didn't have all the time in the world to do this. My husband and I were still working during the day and trying to manage this in the evenings. I would've liked to have taken more time, let her choose what we kept and what we didn't, but given the circumstances I did what I had to do.
So, move ahead a few months to winter, about three weeks ago. She let me know she needed her winter clothes - her boots and sweaters. All this time I hadn't had the heart to tell her we had to get rid of most of her things, so I'd been telling her that her things were in storage.
"I'll get them out of storage for you Gan and bring them next time I'm here."
(I go to see her at least once a week.) Since any winter clothes were nowhere to be found, we had to get her some more, but again, I didn't want to tell her that a lot of her clothes were gone, so I went to Kohl's by myself to get her a few. I planned to buy them, take the tags off, and take them to her like they were the ones I'd gotten out of fictitious storage.
I found myself perusing the sweaters of the petites department, picking them up, holding them up, and putting them back down, saying to myself, I think she would believe this is something she owned. I laughed out loud to the surprise of a nearby stranger. You know, there are things that you think you'll never say like, "Yes, I like working late hours," or "Go ahead and borrow my last fifty dollars," then there are things so bizarre you can't even think them up to say you'll never say them. This phrase is one of the latter. I can't wait to see what other currently unfathomable statements await me in my elderly-caregiving future.
By the way, she did believe they were her sweaters and she wears them often.

A Funeral Hoax

Last night, I got a call from Ganny at about 6:30.
Gan: "Brandy, Alene called. Tommy died."
Alene is Ganny's cousin and life-long friend. She only lives about 30 minutes from me. Tommy is Alene's husband and apparently he had been ill for quite some time. While I know Alene well, I haven't seen her in a few years.
Me: "Oh, Gan, oh no. That's terrible. I'm sorry."
Gan (cutting me off.): "Well, I'd like to go to the funeral but I don't have a car so,"
She brings this up daily. She hasn't had a car in almost 2 years.
Me: "No Gan, I understand. You just find out when it is and we'll go."
Gan (cutting me off again): "It's tomorraw. It's at 10:30 tomorraw morning."
Me: "Oh, goodness. Okay. Do you know where it is?"
Gan: "No...no." Silence.
Me: "Can you get an address? Call her back and write down exactly what she says." This step is essential. Gan can't remember any new information for any period of time. The irony is she can't remember the fact that she's supposed to write things down by the time she gets the information again.
Gan: "Okay, okay, I'll call you right back."
2-3 minutes later -
Gan: "It's at 11:30. Well, at 10:30. It starts at 11:30 but she said she wanted us there to see everyone at 10:30."
I didn't quite understand that but whatever.
Me: "That's fine. We can do that. Did you get the address?"
Gan (pause): "No...she wants us to go to her house. I'll call back and get the address."
I thought I remembered where Alene lives, but it couldn't hurt to make sure.
At this point, I should've called her myself. I deserve everything that occurs after this. I just didn't feel like calling an elderly relative I hadn't talked to in years when her husband just died. I suffered the consequences.
2-3 minutes later - maybe less. Gan called me back and gave me the address of Alene's house.
Me: "Okay Gan, I'll call you when I get up in the morning and I'll pick you up about 9:30." She can no longer work an alarm clock no matter how simple it may be.
Gan: "Okay darlin' okay, bye bye."
2-3 minutes later. Gan called again.
Gan: "Brandy, I need pantyhose."
Me (sigh): "Um, alright. I'll stop and get you some on my way over in the morning."
Gan: "Unless you have some you can bring me,"
Sigh again.

For whatever reason, I couldn't sleep last night - I mean at all. It's not unusual for me to have trouble falling asleep, or to wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to go back to sleep, but I rarely don't sleep at all. Well last night I didn't. I dozed off watching Kevin Hart on my DVR at about 6:30 this morning. Needless to to say, when the alarm went off at 8:00 I was beyond miserable. But this is a funeral for Pete's sake. There are some things in life you do because it's the right thing.

I drug myself out of bed and made the obligatory Ganny wake-up call.
Gan: "Now, where are we going?"
Me (rolling my eyes) "You don't remember?"
Gan: "Well, we're going to Alene's,"
Me: "Yes, do you remember why?"
Gan: "I think we're going to a wedding or something. Yeah, a wedding."
Unfortunately this type of thing isn't unusual for her these days. Her short term memory is gone - obviously.
I explained what we were really doing, found an uncomfortable black dress to wear and made my way to her apartment, grabbing pantyhose along the way.
I walked in, pantyhose in hand and the first thing she said was, "We've got a problem."
I thought maybe her dress was torn, or she couldn't find shoes or something.
Gan: "We're not going. I called and she said they're ahead of us and not to come today but to come next week sometime."
I truly wanted to slap her. Judge me if you must.
I questioned her repeatedly to no avail. I tried to call Alene to get the story first hand, but she didn't answer. I wasted my time giving her a lecture about writing things down.
I tried to just go back home but she complained that she was hungry, and she didn't want to sit in her apartment bored all day. (Mind you there's bingo, canasta, singalongs, everything except a dog and pony show, and sometimes that too, downstairs at her apartments, but no - she'd rather sit in her apartment and complain about it.) I ended up bringing her back home with me, making her a waffle, and turning on Dr. Phil for her (her choice). In the meantime, I began this blog.

So this is what I'm left with. Was there a funeral today? Did this guy even die? Can I get a medal please?