Once, at my dad's house, I was doing something upstairs waiting for Ganny to arrive so we could go to lunch. I had some music playing on the downstairs computer. I heard her open the front door and call - "Knock knock, Ganny's here," like she usually did then. I took the few steps to the top of the stairs to tell her hello. She of course was immediately unhappy with the music that was not Gospel, so I explained to her how to turn it off. "Just go to the computer Gan, and move the mouse to the little X in the top right hand corner and that will close the program. I'll be right down."
As I stepped into the other room to wrap up whatever I had been working on, I noticed the music didn't stop. I returned to the top of the stairs to find Ganny, with mouse in hand, pointing it at the screen like a remote control and squinting.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Episode #12 The Holidays
Note: I have fallen behind on my blogging due to extreme overwork as a teacher at a public high school. The post below refers to Thanksgiving of 2011.
Ganny put on her reading glasses to help me with a random craft project at the table. She hates crafts. Brad and I do these bizzare Christmas cards each year with rediculous pictures of us and I had an idea to use that old-fashioned garland with strings of popcorn in the picture. I asked Gan to help me string some of the popcorn. Honestly, I was surprised she said yes. She detests anything involving sitting patiently such as needle-point, knitting, playing cards, etc. which is unfortunate considering this is what old people usually do to occupy their time. Ironically, Gan would rather sit around watching reruns of Gunsmoke and Bonanza and complain about how bored she is. This is delightful for the rest of us.
Back to the point though - she put on her reading glasses and her flaw detector and looked at me. "What's that comin' up on your face?" she asked. I knew immediately what she was referring to. It was a mole near my mouth that I've always been self conscious about. It's been there as long as I can remember. I checked the anger that immediately swelled. "I don't know Gan." She continued to offend. "It's right there," she pointed. "Gan, it's a mole. It has always been there," I stated quickly, hoping we could move on before I either lost my temper or started sniveling. "Oh." And we did move on.Well, she did. I obviously am still holding on to it.
A bit later, we were ready to head over to my in-laws to have Thanksgiving dinner. It's not ideal to involve Ganny in these settings, but my conscience won't let me leave her alone for the majority of Thanksgiving Day. When we announced we were about to leave, Ganny quickly asked, "Aren't you going to comb your hair?" My hair was combed. What do you do with that? Brad jumped in - "It is combed Ganny, she's just got it flipped over the other side of her face right now." I just kind of nodded and made note of the moment to share here. It sounds so simple now, after the fact. Just smile and explain it to her. Be patient. But that's where this blog comes in. In the moment, you want to scream. What is it about old people that gives them this uncanny ability to make you feel crazy? At the time, when they make that offensive comment or that oh-so-sour expression, it takes every ounce of strength you have to simply grind your teeth and get through it.
There were no major embarrassments at the in-laws until after dinner. As we were all wrapping up, Gan said something about how disappointed she was that she couldn't eat more because the food was so good. She is notorious for eating next to nothing. I tried to be positive. "You did fine Ganny." Her reply: "I didn't eat anything compared to what you ate."
Again, what do you do with that? I laughed because it was so blatantly rude, but what made it better is that my brother-in-law and his wife laughed out loud too. They know all about Gan and my... difficulties with her. It was as if my complaints about her had been validated in that moment, when someone else saw what I was talking about.
As best I can recall, that was the last of the worst of it. Of course there is always the constant repetition and defense of one's choices, but those were the stand-out moments of the day.
Ganny put on her reading glasses to help me with a random craft project at the table. She hates crafts. Brad and I do these bizzare Christmas cards each year with rediculous pictures of us and I had an idea to use that old-fashioned garland with strings of popcorn in the picture. I asked Gan to help me string some of the popcorn. Honestly, I was surprised she said yes. She detests anything involving sitting patiently such as needle-point, knitting, playing cards, etc. which is unfortunate considering this is what old people usually do to occupy their time. Ironically, Gan would rather sit around watching reruns of Gunsmoke and Bonanza and complain about how bored she is. This is delightful for the rest of us.
Back to the point though - she put on her reading glasses and her flaw detector and looked at me. "What's that comin' up on your face?" she asked. I knew immediately what she was referring to. It was a mole near my mouth that I've always been self conscious about. It's been there as long as I can remember. I checked the anger that immediately swelled. "I don't know Gan." She continued to offend. "It's right there," she pointed. "Gan, it's a mole. It has always been there," I stated quickly, hoping we could move on before I either lost my temper or started sniveling. "Oh." And we did move on.Well, she did. I obviously am still holding on to it.
A bit later, we were ready to head over to my in-laws to have Thanksgiving dinner. It's not ideal to involve Ganny in these settings, but my conscience won't let me leave her alone for the majority of Thanksgiving Day. When we announced we were about to leave, Ganny quickly asked, "Aren't you going to comb your hair?" My hair was combed. What do you do with that? Brad jumped in - "It is combed Ganny, she's just got it flipped over the other side of her face right now." I just kind of nodded and made note of the moment to share here. It sounds so simple now, after the fact. Just smile and explain it to her. Be patient. But that's where this blog comes in. In the moment, you want to scream. What is it about old people that gives them this uncanny ability to make you feel crazy? At the time, when they make that offensive comment or that oh-so-sour expression, it takes every ounce of strength you have to simply grind your teeth and get through it.
There were no major embarrassments at the in-laws until after dinner. As we were all wrapping up, Gan said something about how disappointed she was that she couldn't eat more because the food was so good. She is notorious for eating next to nothing. I tried to be positive. "You did fine Ganny." Her reply: "I didn't eat anything compared to what you ate."
Again, what do you do with that? I laughed because it was so blatantly rude, but what made it better is that my brother-in-law and his wife laughed out loud too. They know all about Gan and my... difficulties with her. It was as if my complaints about her had been validated in that moment, when someone else saw what I was talking about.
As best I can recall, that was the last of the worst of it. Of course there is always the constant repetition and defense of one's choices, but those were the stand-out moments of the day.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Episode #11 Wake Up Call
Tomorrow is my first day back at work (school) after summer break.
My phone rang about 30 minutes ago.
Me: Hello?
Gan: Brandy, this is Ganny. (She is still in denial that caller ID exists.) What are you going to be doing about 7:30 in the morning?
Me: Well Gan, I should be in the car, on my way to work.
Gan: Well do you think you could call me and wake me up?
Me: (surprised pause) Ganny, where are you headed?
Gan: I've gotta go to the doctor, at 9:45 and I'm afraid if I don't get up then, I won't be able to drink my coffee and get ready.
Me: (lovingly) Do you not have an alarm Ganny?
Gan: Well, I do, but I can't tell if I've got it on a.m. or p.m. I can't tell where that little light is on the little thing...
Me: (in submission to the cuteness) Yes, Gan. I will leave myself a note so I will remember to call you on my way to work...
My phone rang about 30 minutes ago.
Me: Hello?
Gan: Brandy, this is Ganny. (She is still in denial that caller ID exists.) What are you going to be doing about 7:30 in the morning?
Me: Well Gan, I should be in the car, on my way to work.
Gan: Well do you think you could call me and wake me up?
Me: (surprised pause) Ganny, where are you headed?
Gan: I've gotta go to the doctor, at 9:45 and I'm afraid if I don't get up then, I won't be able to drink my coffee and get ready.
Me: (lovingly) Do you not have an alarm Ganny?
Gan: Well, I do, but I can't tell if I've got it on a.m. or p.m. I can't tell where that little light is on the little thing...
Me: (in submission to the cuteness) Yes, Gan. I will leave myself a note so I will remember to call you on my way to work...
Monday, August 1, 2011
Episode #10 Getting the New Hearing Aids
Ganny has never worn hearing aids before, and though she has mentioned possibly getting them at some point in the future, and we have joked with her on occasion that she may need them, it has never been a serious topic of discussion. Last week however, she surprised me with the news she had purchased some.
This is the type of thing that worries me: what she does all day when I can't be with her and monitor her decisions. I don't mean to be condescending, but the reality is she just isn't as sharp as she used to be. I don't want her to get taken advantage of.
I didn't even know she was looking at hearing aids. "Well Ganny, how did you decide you needed hearing aids?" I asked, trying to find the catalyst of this decision. "They told me I did," she responded quickly. "Who?" I asked suspiciously. "The lady at the hearing aid place. They tested me and said it wasn't severe but that I needed them." That's what I didn't want to hear (pardon the sort-of pun). What could I say? "They cost me $2800.00. I'm just gonna pay 'em out." Then I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but knew that I shouldn't. "Gan, I wish that you would've talked to me before you did that," I said not trying to sound angry. "Well they said I had to have 'em," she countered. I wanted desperately to say "OF COURSE THEY TOLD YOU THAT. THEY SELL HEARING AIDS." But one must resist the impulse to yell at Ganny, even when she deserves it. As previously mentioned, this will result in a crying old lady.
I decided to go with her when she was scheduled to pick them up and get instructions on how to use them. I anticipated some intricate directions and thought it would be beneficial for me to be there and write some things down.
When we arrived everyone seemed nice enough. They remembered Ganny (she's hard to forget) and seemed to be on the up and up. A young girl, professionally dressed, took us back to a small office and began to explain the logistics of everyday use: how to change the batteries, where to get the batteries, what to do with them at night, etc. I took notes. Ganny seemed to digest the information fairly well with only minimal interruption and questions. She watched with intrigue as the woman modeled how to remove the batteries. She seized the device with gusto when it was her turn to try.
There came a point at which the hearing aid specialist showed Ganny how to put on the hearing aids and perform some tests to ensure they were programmed for her specific needs. As the woman retrieved some supplies from the other room, Ganny looked at me with a giddy smile and clapped her hands. I couldn't help but smile back at her. "Are you excited Gan?"
"Oh yes!" she chirped. Isn't she cute, I thought.
Suddenly, it struck me how our roles had become the exact mirror reflection of what they used to be. Twenty years ago, Gan was sitting with me at the orthodontist while I clapped excitedly about getting a new color of rubber bands on my braces or something. She was the caretaker, learning the instructions along with me in case I needed help. She would have been the one thinking how cute I was, and realizing the significance of these small moments together while I was just excited about my new stuff.
I have been told by those that have gone through the cycle before me that this is how life works. Your parents and grandparents raise you and then you, in turn, take care of them much later when they slowly lose the ability to care for themselves. I have realized this before now, but it is these moments, when the roles are so precisely reversed, that I lose my breath for a second or two because I'm scared of being a grown-up and there's nothing I can do about it, because I'm sad to watch this authority figure who taught me so much slowly regress, and because I'm glad that at least I can acknowledge these small moments now, while they're happening, and appreciate her as much as I can in the limited amount of time we have left.
This is the type of thing that worries me: what she does all day when I can't be with her and monitor her decisions. I don't mean to be condescending, but the reality is she just isn't as sharp as she used to be. I don't want her to get taken advantage of.
I didn't even know she was looking at hearing aids. "Well Ganny, how did you decide you needed hearing aids?" I asked, trying to find the catalyst of this decision. "They told me I did," she responded quickly. "Who?" I asked suspiciously. "The lady at the hearing aid place. They tested me and said it wasn't severe but that I needed them." That's what I didn't want to hear (pardon the sort-of pun). What could I say? "They cost me $2800.00. I'm just gonna pay 'em out." Then I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but knew that I shouldn't. "Gan, I wish that you would've talked to me before you did that," I said not trying to sound angry. "Well they said I had to have 'em," she countered. I wanted desperately to say "OF COURSE THEY TOLD YOU THAT. THEY SELL HEARING AIDS." But one must resist the impulse to yell at Ganny, even when she deserves it. As previously mentioned, this will result in a crying old lady.
I decided to go with her when she was scheduled to pick them up and get instructions on how to use them. I anticipated some intricate directions and thought it would be beneficial for me to be there and write some things down.
When we arrived everyone seemed nice enough. They remembered Ganny (she's hard to forget) and seemed to be on the up and up. A young girl, professionally dressed, took us back to a small office and began to explain the logistics of everyday use: how to change the batteries, where to get the batteries, what to do with them at night, etc. I took notes. Ganny seemed to digest the information fairly well with only minimal interruption and questions. She watched with intrigue as the woman modeled how to remove the batteries. She seized the device with gusto when it was her turn to try.
There came a point at which the hearing aid specialist showed Ganny how to put on the hearing aids and perform some tests to ensure they were programmed for her specific needs. As the woman retrieved some supplies from the other room, Ganny looked at me with a giddy smile and clapped her hands. I couldn't help but smile back at her. "Are you excited Gan?"
"Oh yes!" she chirped. Isn't she cute, I thought.
Suddenly, it struck me how our roles had become the exact mirror reflection of what they used to be. Twenty years ago, Gan was sitting with me at the orthodontist while I clapped excitedly about getting a new color of rubber bands on my braces or something. She was the caretaker, learning the instructions along with me in case I needed help. She would have been the one thinking how cute I was, and realizing the significance of these small moments together while I was just excited about my new stuff.
I have been told by those that have gone through the cycle before me that this is how life works. Your parents and grandparents raise you and then you, in turn, take care of them much later when they slowly lose the ability to care for themselves. I have realized this before now, but it is these moments, when the roles are so precisely reversed, that I lose my breath for a second or two because I'm scared of being a grown-up and there's nothing I can do about it, because I'm sad to watch this authority figure who taught me so much slowly regress, and because I'm glad that at least I can acknowledge these small moments now, while they're happening, and appreciate her as much as I can in the limited amount of time we have left.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Episode #9 First Aid
A few weeks ago, my husband and I met at my dad's house to have lunch with the Gan. Brad and my dad found something entertaining on TV in the living room and I was trying to make conversation with Gan at the kitchen table. The living and dining area at my dad's are conjoined, so we were all within earshot of one another.
I asked Ganny how her arm was healing - she had recently bumped her forearm into a doorknob and instead of developing a minor bruise, she sustained a ghastly wound that tore her skin. (Apparently when you approach the centennial mark, your skin begins to take on the fragile qualities of tissue paper.) She told me that behind the large square bandage it was getting better. I asked her if she had put Neosporin on it. "Yes," she said, "and Campho-Phenique. I rubbed that all over it," and she gestured with her bony little hand. "Campho-Phenique?" I repeated, shocked to hear the term. I vaguely remember her "doctoring" my injuries with this substance as a kid, but had long forgotten about it. I thought the others would get a kick out of hearing about the archaic cure-all too.
Amused, I yelled over the sound of the TV to Brad and my dad, "Guess what Ganny put on her arm?" fully intending for her to talk about the Campho-Phenique and everyone to have a good laugh about this medical equivalent to a rotary phone. "Neosperm" she responded on cue, matter-of-factly. There was a slight pause - on my part because she didn't say Campho-Phenique, on the part of my husband and my dad because they had no idea what we were talking about. Brad and I made eye contact and I could see the understanding pass over his face. He had at least heard about the arm injury before now and made the connection to the intended meaning. He giggled with me. I quickly added context to help my dad. "She put 'Neosperm' and Campho-Phenique on her arm where she hurt it," and I pointed at her bandage. At this point everyone began to snicker a bit but Ganny didn't seem to realize her error. We quickly moved on to joke about the Campho-Phenique because no one could bear to address the awkward, unintentionally - inappropriate reference.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Episode # 8 Victoria's Secret
I know, I know. I asked for it. But I can honestly say it was not the embarrassment I expected.
It’s not unusual for Ganny and I to go to the mall from time to time. I either need to pick something up, or return something, and it’s about midway between her apartment and my house, so we can meet there. (Yes, she still drives. Beware Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex.)
On this day, we made an unplanned stop at Victoria’s Secret. I couldn’t help it. They had that giant “Semi-Annual Sale” sign out front, and who can afford to buy anything there at regular price?
“Gan, do you mind if we run in here real quick? I just want to see if I need anything that’s on sale.”
“Sure,” she replied. She can be surprisingly agreeable when it’s just me and her.
Knowing the possible mortification that awaited, I hurried to the sale area at the back of the store to see if there was anything I had to have. Fortunately, Ganny stayed close to me. You don’t want her to venture out too far on her own where you can’t act as buffer for the general public. As we moved through the store, I spotted some very unique bras in bright colors with sequins and bows.
“Does that seem silly to you Gan – all that decoration on bras that no one’s going to see?” I said this knowing that Ganny is an ultra-conservative Christian who believes you only have sex with one man after you marry him. I assumed she would make that familiar, crinkly face and tell me she thought such things were ridiculous and vain. She did not. She instead proceeded to lift one side of her shirt up nearly to her chin and proclaim “No, I have a blue one on today.”
It was pretty quick and after a split-second survey of the other shoppers in our vicinity I concluded that the revelation went undetected. I unintentionally laughed a little and just kept walking. (What else is there to do really?) She laughed too and I guess she realized what she’d done. It was yet another one of those moments where I couldn’t tell if she had done something scandalous on purpose – as old people sometimes do – or if she genuinely acted before she thought it through – as old people also do.
What I try to explain to myself all the time is that it doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, she’s my Ganny that helped raise me and has always loved me and loves me now. I will continue to embark upon adventures with her as often as I can.
Episode #7 The Cable Guy
Apparently Ganny calls the Dish Network people when she accidentally pushes the wrong button on her multi-function remote and can’t get back to the screen she recognizes. She is under the impression that something is wrong with the cable when this happens and is oblivious to the reality that her predicament is a result of user error. I realized this today when I visited her apartment and the cable guy arrived. She complains periodically about her TV doing this and that, but she always seems to find her way back to Bonanza somehow. I was not aware that she was having the cable company send someone out to give her lessons on how to use the remote control.
The man in question was nice enough, so pleasant in fact, that I suspect he must visit her retirement apartment center often for similar calls – God bless him.“Well it just went off and it said all this stuff all over ever-where and it kept telling me to push ‘select’ and I did but it wouldn’t do anything,” she blurted out.How can I help this guy, I thought. Surprisingly, he seemed to be able to make sense of her convoluted complaint and made the screen saver appear: a black screen with a red logo in the top corner, and messages scrolling across promoting additional services you can request. It also includes a large message on the bottom that says “Push ‘select’ to return.” Well good, I thought, at least she got that far.“Is this the screen you saw?” he asked politely.“Yeah, but I pushed ‘select’ and it didn’t do nothin’,” she reiterated.“You might need to push this button,” he said, and he pointed to the ‘satellite’ button at the top of the remote, “to make sure you’re in the right mode.”Hmm. Mode, I thought. That’ll throw her.After modeling this procedure, the black screen disappeared and the TV show returned.“I did that and it didn’t do nothin’,” she repeated. “Why did it just go off like that?”He explained to her that the screen saver comes on when the TV has been on the same channel for several hours.“Well what if I want it on the same channel all day?” she asked defiantly, as if this trivial default action somehow violates her civil rights.“It’s okay Gan, you just have to tell the TV that. It doesn’t know that you haven’t forgotten,” I assured her in attempt to calm the frustration that was building. As mentioned in previous posts, losing her temper is not unusual when dealing with these types of situations and I really didn’t want see another innocent man trying to do his job fall victim to her irrational behavior today.“Well…” and she mumbled something incoherent. “So what do I do again?”The saint that is the cable guy walked her through the two-button process again. “Push this button here – ‘satellite’, then push ‘select’.”This time however she accepted it as if it had not been explained before. “Oh, okay. I’ll just do that,” she said and nodded. I was both annoyed and relieved: obviously relieved that this interaction was coming to a close, but annoyed that he said THE EXACT SAME THING 90 SECONDS AGO and it wasn’t sufficient for her then.
The man in question was nice enough, so pleasant in fact, that I suspect he must visit her retirement apartment center often for similar calls – God bless him.“Well it just went off and it said all this stuff all over ever-where and it kept telling me to push ‘select’ and I did but it wouldn’t do anything,” she blurted out.How can I help this guy, I thought. Surprisingly, he seemed to be able to make sense of her convoluted complaint and made the screen saver appear: a black screen with a red logo in the top corner, and messages scrolling across promoting additional services you can request. It also includes a large message on the bottom that says “Push ‘select’ to return.” Well good, I thought, at least she got that far.“Is this the screen you saw?” he asked politely.“Yeah, but I pushed ‘select’ and it didn’t do nothin’,” she reiterated.“You might need to push this button,” he said, and he pointed to the ‘satellite’ button at the top of the remote, “to make sure you’re in the right mode.”Hmm. Mode, I thought. That’ll throw her.After modeling this procedure, the black screen disappeared and the TV show returned.“I did that and it didn’t do nothin’,” she repeated. “Why did it just go off like that?”He explained to her that the screen saver comes on when the TV has been on the same channel for several hours.“Well what if I want it on the same channel all day?” she asked defiantly, as if this trivial default action somehow violates her civil rights.“It’s okay Gan, you just have to tell the TV that. It doesn’t know that you haven’t forgotten,” I assured her in attempt to calm the frustration that was building. As mentioned in previous posts, losing her temper is not unusual when dealing with these types of situations and I really didn’t want see another innocent man trying to do his job fall victim to her irrational behavior today.“Well…” and she mumbled something incoherent. “So what do I do again?”The saint that is the cable guy walked her through the two-button process again. “Push this button here – ‘satellite’, then push ‘select’.”This time however she accepted it as if it had not been explained before. “Oh, okay. I’ll just do that,” she said and nodded. I was both annoyed and relieved: obviously relieved that this interaction was coming to a close, but annoyed that he said THE EXACT SAME THING 90 SECONDS AGO and it wasn’t sufficient for her then.
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