Caregiving Story

Grandma was ruling my life. She set the pace, the timing, and the rules. My once-per-day calls to my office back home were always dotted with, “No, grandma, sit here grandma, what do you need, grandma?” I had no personal time whatsoever. I had to try to time my showers precisely 15 minutes after her 10am nap began - sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. There were moments I wanted to run screaming from the house. I could never complete a one hour newscast or a talk show, or a telephone call. I couldn’t be careless to leave a door open or something sitting out on a table. I only dared to run to the corner store while grandma slept, fearing she would wake and fall.

Thoughts of my aunt suffering this way for the last 10 years were sobering, indeed, a shame unto us all. By the end of the week, Grandma was on her worst behavior. She discovered what room I disappeared into (you know, to sleep, dress, etc.) and she began entering that room every time I was in there (it didn’t have a lock). I first put up chairs as a barricade - she moved the chairs. Then I had to put a 19” TV in front of the door to keep her from coming in.

Later, she decided she was going in there anyway, whether I was in there or not, even with the door shut. I could tell when she was deciding to go in there when she was standing in the kitchen - she eyed the door from across the room, about 25 feet away. I would say, “No, grandma” and she would take off 90 miles an hour for that door. So fast, I couldn’t catch her until she was already in the room. This was no feeble 98-year-old lady! She was greased lightning when she wanted to be! Well, anyway, to make matters worse, the last time I stopped her from getting into the room, she turned around and her false teeth were hanging out - she looked like a walking skeleton! I said, “Eeek! Grandma, put your teeth back in!” She just walked around, with those things hanging out.

Aunt Sally had left no instructions about the teeth! After thirty minutes or so, Grandma came walking in with her teeth in her hand, trying to hand them to me, and I said, “Grandma, you’re gonna have to do it yourself because I don’t know anything about teeth!” So she finally put them back in herself.

I am finishing this a few years later. Grandma has since passed away and I realize now that the week with Grandma was just about the most special time we ever had together. It took her about two days to recognize me. I kept saying, “Grandma, it’s me, Sherry. I love you, Grandma”. The moment she realized who I was, it was clear. I saw the recognition on her face, as she headed toward me. She patted and stroked my arm over and over and mumbled, “I love you. I love you”. Our mutual “I love you’s” lasted all week long. I recall trimming her hair just before the trip to the mall. I got out my curling iron and tried, to no avail, to curl her hair. It was straight as a stick. I told her I couldn’t get her hair to curl and she laughed with delight, sort of a devilish little chuckle. Now that I think about it, she always used to say how uncooperative her hair always was.

Grandma, I miss you so much. You were always such a big part of my childhood. I am so very thankful for that week with you. But I have an incredible, new respect for full-time caregivers. Thank you, Aunt Sally. I’m sure there is a special place in Heaven for you and others like you.