Old Ladies

Grandma Lee has fallen on her backside twice in the last two days. The nursing home calls me each time to notify me officially, and to let me know "there's no injury--she's okay." Well, yes and no.

She's bruised her tailbone badly, and is clearly in pain from that. The nurse said if it was broken she'd be in a lot more pain. Okay, that's good news, anyway.

This comes because she is so cussed ornery that she won't believe she is impaired enough to need help to get to the bathroom or dress herself. They've tried putting an alarm on the seat of her wheelchair to alert them if she gets up. She figured out how to remove it without setting it off, and finds new hiding places every time it is found and reattached.

Orneriness comes to her naturally; she probably hatched that way. I believe she is having more mini strokes. When she started "taking a seat" at the last place, it eventually proved to be because of TIAs. The last one was big enough to cause serious and unmistakable deficit. That's what landed her in the hospital, and then in this place for skilled nursing care.

I've known her so long I can tell she's slipping mentally again. She called twice on Friday to tell me what had happened, and used the exact same wording each time. The only reason I knew for sure they were two separate calls, aside from the noted time of each, was a bit of additional information at the end of the second one. Clearly, she didn't recall that she'd made the first only an hour before.

Repetition is nothing new. That's been going on for a long time. That's what happens when you live in a shared room, seeing the same people every day, with nothing new happening from one day to the next. I'd repeat myself, too. There's only so much fodder for conversation there.

This is different, though. She's less "there", more confused. It's gone from forgetting names to forgetting where she is and how long she's been there. She moved in the first week of March, and told someone the other day that "it's been just over a year." Maybe it feels that way, but this a very different place from the last one. I have to keep reeling her back into the now.

There's gentle sweetness; like staying with her roommate when the other ladies invited her to join them in the activities room. She said, "You know, she's not well at all. She wakes up in pain in the middle of the night. Someone has to stay here to make sure she gets help if she needs it."

Then, there is anger and agitation. She chafes at what she calls "confinement". Some people irritate her beyond all reason. I suggest she just stay away from them, but even the sound of their voices makes her angry. I hope she doesn't use a fork to poke at the guy who rolls up and down the hallway like she did to the fellow who looked in the door of her room on the other ward.

She becomes aggressive through fear. Life has taught her the best defense is a good offense. That's one lesson she'll take to her grave.