Welp... it's official - my 85 year-old grandmother no longer recalls who I am. Its not that I didn't see it coming, just a little saddened by it all. On Monday, I stopped by the nursing home (with my father) to visit her, a task normally performed each week by my mother. But she's in Africa this week, so the job fell to my father & I during her absence.The last time I saw Gramma was Christmas Day. It was then I realized many of the things & people she loved would soon be locked away in some hidden corner of her mind. I often wonder how frightening an experience it must be for her & whether it'll become more or less terrifying as her state of dementia progresses.
Unfamiliar surroundings, strangers coming & going; all professing to know things about you, the home you recall - nowhere in sight... how agonizing it must be to realize you can't make sense of 'anything' around you. If you ask me, I'd say, "that's a pretty fucked-up way to go."
It's ironic, when people we love experience conditions such as dementia, or any disease, we often selfishly consider ourselves the victims, sometimes even more than our loved ones! Exorbitant assisted living costs, rising medication bills, outrageous insurance premiums - I know... poor-poor us left holding the God-damned bag, lol.Granted, no one looks forward to shelling-out their hard-earned money to a less-than-deserving healthcare staff or to an insurance company only concerned with the bottom line, but it's a necessary evil right about now & there really doesn't seem to be any way around it.
Suck it up! After all, what else can we really do? As I look deeper into my own situation, I realize I've got to do this at least 2 more times when my parents reach their twilight years. Might as well look at this as an opportunity to observe what does & doesn't work (when it comes to elderly care) in the hope that I can provide the best quality of life possible for the duration of their respective lifetimes...

