15 nov 2012

this evening my dearly beloved and i went to have thanksgiving supper with my 98yo grandmother, at the nursing home where she lives. i don't like nursing homes, mostly for the obvious reasons such as it smells like pee and nursing home food sucks. i don't like old people, either. they smell like pee, too, but mostly i don't like old people because you can't carry on a conversation with them. they're either talking about the past or living in the past or talking about living in the past or they're deaf. i like to have conversations with people who do the conversational heavy lifting.

so, we got there and made our way to the dining room. she was waiting on us, but then didn't seem to realise who we were, but then called us by our appropriate respective names several different times over the course of the hour or so we were there. she also called us various other names, thought we were other people, and introduced us as her cousins (which we're not). we talked about several things, pretty much simultaneously, because she'd say one thing and then sort of lose her place or struggle for a word or a thought and finish up with an unrelated tidbit, or else taper off into something resembling dutch. when i could, i volunteered words, which occasionally found purchase in her ancient cerebrum and brought gratitude to her eyes.

the two items she was able to communicate most effectively, with clarity and emotion, were her frustration over her inability to communicate more widely and her humiliation at being physically weak. she told us about a recent fall (which i knew separately to be fact) with what was unmistakably anger. i asked her, was she hurt. she said, no. i said, did it hurt her pride. she looked right at me - right in my eyes, and said, yes.

so.

who here's looking forward to getting old, raise your hand.