Monday, May 08, 2006
My grandfather is slowing up. That’s actually a gross understatement. He’s been in and out of the hospital this year for various reasons ranging from a mild heart attack to a sprained ankle. My grandmother, who is no spring chicken herself, has been left with the mammoth task of taking care of this, well, rather cantankerous old man.
To put this into context, let’s start out with the fact that my grandfather doesn’t want anyone cutting his hair. He, therefore, cuts it himself, and in his current state he’s become too lazy to do it. As a result the nurses at the hospital called him “Mrs. Sato”. Grooming aside (which does not end with the hair, but continues on with toe nails) he is hard of hearing and gets upset when he doesn’t understand you.
Needless to say, it was time to go to Chicago for a visit, if for nothing else than to offer Grandma a reprieve from her duties as a caregiver. So a couple of weeks ago I flew in to spend some time with them.
The last time I was back in Chicago was over Christmas, and grandpa hadn’t gone through all this health turmoil yet. This time when I arrived in the apartment he was sleeping. . . Grandma went into the back room to change. Grandpa, waking up, began pacing around the apartment repeating my grandmother’s name. It was eerie.
My grandmother admits they are living some sort of sub-universe. They don’t have people over anymore (not that they were ever very social) and have a strange dependency relationship. My grandmother finally came around to getting a mail to come in every couple of weeks.
After being awake for a few hours, my grandfather got up and went to sleep again. “He sleeps almost all hours of the day.” My grandmother said. “How long can someone live like this?”
How do you respond to that?
To put this into context, let’s start out with the fact that my grandfather doesn’t want anyone cutting his hair. He, therefore, cuts it himself, and in his current state he’s become too lazy to do it. As a result the nurses at the hospital called him “Mrs. Sato”. Grooming aside (which does not end with the hair, but continues on with toe nails) he is hard of hearing and gets upset when he doesn’t understand you.
Needless to say, it was time to go to Chicago for a visit, if for nothing else than to offer Grandma a reprieve from her duties as a caregiver. So a couple of weeks ago I flew in to spend some time with them.
The last time I was back in Chicago was over Christmas, and grandpa hadn’t gone through all this health turmoil yet. This time when I arrived in the apartment he was sleeping. . . Grandma went into the back room to change. Grandpa, waking up, began pacing around the apartment repeating my grandmother’s name. It was eerie.
My grandmother admits they are living some sort of sub-universe. They don’t have people over anymore (not that they were ever very social) and have a strange dependency relationship. My grandmother finally came around to getting a mail to come in every couple of weeks.
After being awake for a few hours, my grandfather got up and went to sleep again. “He sleeps almost all hours of the day.” My grandmother said. “How long can someone live like this?”
How do you respond to that?
# posted by otas : 8:37 AM
