Back when I lived in New Jersey, I was one of the main caretakers for my grandmother. I lived with her, so it was usually easy enough for me to handle insulin injections for her diabetes, daily meds (for various health conditions, including Alzheimer’s disease), grooming, and light cleaning.
In May 2007, I moved out. I was feeling too stressed and frustrated with the caretaking duties, and starting to have disturbing dreams about hurting her deliberately. That was when I said enough was enough. I didn’t want there to even be a chance of those dreams becoming reality.
It’s been almost three years since I left, and the decline in my grandmother’s cognitive skills has been marked. At first, she was mostly able to be home alone — my mom and uncle (her children) visited daily to administer insulin and prepare meals. Home health aides came by several days per week to help with cleaning, grooming, and food shopping.
But eventually, my grandmother admitted that she was afraid to be in the house alone. After much discussion among the family, they decided the best course would be a live-in aide. They hired a vivacious, energetic young woman to move in and take on the major caretaking duties. My family still has to do the shots and doctor’s visits, but the live-in does the grooming, cleaning, meals, and exercise/outings.
My grandmother, meanwhile, is starting to show regular gaps in her memory. She’s often confused about what time of year it is and where she is. She looks for her parents (who both passed away years ago). She doesn’t remember that the live-in aide is supposed to be there, and often calls my mother in a panic because “some stranger” is in the house.
Other signs demonstrate that the Alzheimer’s disease is progressing quickly. Her sleeping patterns have changed dramatically: she often won’t get out of bed until after noon (when she used to be a relatively early riser). She’s having trouble with incontinence, and often wets the bed. Lately, she’s been running out of the house in a panic, and going to the neighbors for “help”.
I know it’s been hard on my mom; she often gets the calls from my grandmother and often ends up running over to the rescue. I can imagine that it’s incredibly stressful. I know it was stressful when I lived there — and my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s disease wasn’t nearly so advanced.
I don’t know what my grandmother will be like the next time I visit home. I hope she can at least recognize and remember me. But if she doesn’t, I still have an amazing, hysterical, wonderful set of memories of her being the coolest grandmother in town.