Girl, where do you think you’re going? Where do you think you’re going, going, girl?
-Lady Gaga, Joanne
I watched the sun rise this morning, like so many other mornings in this house. The Florida sky has a way of delighting the eye with orange and pink and gold, nearly any time of year. I watch the fog slip away, and the birds make their call as the neighborhood wakes up. By 9, I can venture over to Grandma’s Rehab Center.
Lately, these visits put precious punctuation into my day. It makes the work hours longer; it forces me to be more creative with my time – but there’s no other way to go about it. My grandmother is a pillar in my life, always has been, and I’m slowly watching her succumb to illness – something my young, naive mind never truly imagined would happen.
Grandma has Alzheimer’s. She was diagnosed with dementia a couple of years ago, after her usually flighty mind started causing my grandfather and mother extra concern. She was misplacing (or hiding) mail, forgetting details, and losing her purse. The disease has progressed rapidly, especially in the last few months. I’m no stranger to dementia; I volunteered over 200 hours of my time in high school and college caring for affected seniors, and helping them write photo-poetry.
For the last 700-800 days, I’ve explained symptoms to my mom, let her know why some things may be happening. What I didn’t realize is that at some point, my life experience would run out and hers would kick in. While I was assuming, grasping, clinging to the fact that my grandma’s not that bad, what I was really doing was trying to block out an inevitable process that I knew in my heart was anything but pretty.
We all get punched in the gut by life. At some point, we’re all caught off guard, and the Universe teaches us lessons we never thought we’d have to learn. And here we are, dealing with one of the most heartbreaking illnesses to man, in our family.
Kat Galaxy 