One of the hallmarks of losing one’s mind is cruelty where there was none before, and another is blowing seemingly minor things out of proportion – mountains from molehills, if you will.
We signed an official lease with my grandmother today. We are now, officially, tenants of the Clark Street house. We signed this paper around 3:00 today. My brother, also named as a tenant, will sign both copies when he returns from his job in the woods.
At 7:15 p.m., Nana called. She called the house phone. When she wants to talk to me, she calls my cell phone. But no one else was home to answer the house phone (Boogermonkey LOVES answering the phone), so I did.
“Oh, Jenni! I didn’t want to bother you, I figured [Booger] or [Llamaface] would pick up.”
“[Llama] took [Booger] to the store to get dessert, what’s up?”
What followed was a three minute, 47 second tirade on nothing other than our signatures and how messy they are.
I WISH I were kidding.
“No one can even tell that’s a name.”
“That’s the point, Nana.”
“You can’t tell me they accept this at the bank.”
“Every time I write a check, every time I sign for my credit card, yes they do.”
“Well you’ll have to write me a check and bring me to the bank so I can see it for myself.”
“Okay, Nana, whatever you say.”
“When the IRS checks up on this, they’re not going to believe you’re a real person!”
“I seriously doubt, unless your tax guy is totally inept, that the IRS will look at anything, Nana.”
Her handwriting, due to age and dementia, is going to shit. I can hardly read her shopping lists anymore and her signature is an E followed by bumps and an S followed by more bumps; she swears you can see every letter in her name just fine. “But I guess I was raised in a different time, when you didn’t have to worry about people using your name illegally.”
This is what I live with. Every damned day. And if her doctor dares tell me that there’s nothing wrong with her, I’m complaining to the medical board. Six months, a year ago? She wouldn’t have dared criticize me. She and I are too much alike, and criticizing me means criticizing herself. But now that Mom’s gone (may she rest), I have taken her place (g-d help me). That means Nana will be mean to me the way she was mean to Mom. Hang on folks, that means more stories.
Dementia is an asshole. He sneaks in, shits in your toilet and doesn’t flush, then misses the toilet while peeing when he gets up at 3am.
Love love love you.
Love your Nana almost as much.
xoxo
Ugh, it’s hard and I feel for you being her main carer. My Nana lives on the other side of the world with my Mum looking after her. It was so hard the first time Nana was nasty to me.
And the doctor thing is difficult too. She will just tell the doctor a pack of lies, say that there is nothing wrong with her, it’s ridiculous. The needs assessments are the worst, they come to assess her to see if she needs extra help at home (she still lives on her own) or if she needs rest home care (she refuses to go into a home). She actually tells them she cooks and plates up three meals at a time and puts them in the fridge until it’s time to eat them, she take a walk to the shops every day, etc etc. It’s complete bullshit. She eats toast. Mum does all her shopping. Sometimes she can get Nana out of the flat to go shopping with her.
Mum (her daughter-in-law) has the patience of a saint. Nana really does appreciate her but that doesn’t stop her from being really difficult. Good luck with your Nana.
ugh. I don’t know whats worse sometime, dying young or living long enough to become an asshat.
My grandmother started with Dermentia about a year or two ago. She calls my sister and I my moms name all the time, the dog my or my sisters name and whenever we are around she claims we promised to do things/take her places/etc which we never even spoke of.
Last time I was home all she could talk about was how horrible my bangs were and that God hates bangs (no, not making this up).
Perhaps we should get our Grandmothers together, just to see the possible awesome stories that would come out of it, ,.
xoxoxox
Jen, I wish you patience. My dad was recently diagnosed with dementia. I am not really looking forward to some of this. We’ve actually seen it coming for several years already. We are also trying to get them to move up here soon, so I can help my mom. It’s sad watching this happen.