I recently returned home from a two week stay in Washington caring for my 87 year old Grandmother. I hadn’t seen her in about three years though we speak on the phone weekly. I knew she has Alzheimer’s but it was one thing to know it and quite another thing to experience it.
Statistically people over 65 years of age are at high risk for Alzheimer’s. 50% of those 85 years of age and older will have Alzheimer’s, thus most of us will have a loved one who has this terrible disease. A dear friend of mine’s father had early onset of the disease–meaning he had it before he was 65 years old–and it was my experience via her that helped me to know what to do with my Grandmother. Still, even when you have the information, I have found that it doesn’t prepare a person for the emotional side effects of Alzheimer’s, both from the family members and from the victim of it.
Grandma has always been the grandmotherly figure. She always doted on us when we were little and loved it when we would fly down and stay with them. She loved making breakfast, lunch and dinner for us and enjoyed doing things for us. So it was difficult to watch my Grandmother not know how to dress herself. It took her 30 minutes to figure out how to put one foot in a sock. What a role reversal to dress her and undress her and prepare her for bed. I had never dealt with dentures and hearing aids before, yet in two weeks time I became an expert in changing batteries, removing dentures, cleaning them. The worst part for both of us is that it upset my Grandma that I had to do it for her. She hated that she couldn’t do it and she felt so helpless and frustrated. I tried to tell her that it was a privilege for me to help her just a tiny bit (only 2 weeks out of a whole year!) but she wouldn’t hear it.
Breakfast in the mornings was the most challenging for both of us. I would prepare breakfast for my 3 year old and then my Grandma and she would refuse to eat it because she could prepare her own breakfast, thank you very much. Except she cannot. And she has dropped below 100 pounds because she cannot remember how to prepare food.
My husband and I had entertained bringing my Grandma up to live with us permanently, but the rest of the family vetoed the idea because moves for Alzheimer patients are bad, they regress quickly, and secondly the health care availability for elderly folks in AK is abysmal. After witnessing her in her own apartment, I realized how she really needed a home that specializes in Alzheimers’ patients so she could safely roam without injuring herself. My mind flashed to all the potential dangers for such patients: stoves, stairs, doors with locks (not codes), snow, ice, knives, fireplace, blowdryers, curling irons. I am sure the list continues.
At the same time, my Grandmother’s memories were during her younger years and how they survived the Great Depression (rather timely). In a way, I felt like I had to remember every word uttered because at some point those memories would be forever gone.
Even though my Grandma–the Grandma I have always known–is slowly disappearing to some alien force that is taking over her brain and her life–there were the old vestiges of her. She still hugs like she always used to and she still gives comfort in a way that no one else can.
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