Another Pattern

"I don't drink much, but I learned from my father to drink a little before bed, and I don't think there's anything wrong with that, because I never drink much, and there's nothing wrong with that." (Always a run-on sentence when she's feeling defensive. SHE brings this topic up, not me.)
"I know, Grandma."
"And I only drink this much." Fingers out about 1 inch apart. (Right.)
"Uh-huh."
"And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I learned that from my father. He was told by a doctor to drink wine before bed, and so I learned to drink wine to put me to sleep from my father."
"Ok, Grandma."

We have had this conversation, verbatim, about 9 times in the last 4 days. I have never said a word about her drinking, although it is excessive. I found one of the enormous wine jugs this morning and dumped all but half a glass out... She complained last night that she didn't fall asleep from the wine she drank (an entire bottle). Probably because it was half water, courtesy of me.

A Pattern

When she gets mad at me, she starts complimenting me and talking in a slightly raised tone.

"Grandma, be sure to take a shower, ok?"
"I did! I don't need one!"
"Yes, you do. Please take a shower."
"I do? Do I smell?"
"Yes. Please take a shower."
"But I don't need to. I live alone and often don't bathe for days because it doesn't matter."
"Please take a shower." (firmly)
"AREN'T YOU THE SWEETEST LITTLE GRANDDAUGHTER I HAVE? YOU'RE SO PRETTY AND SO TALENTED AND I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE HERE!"
"Sure."

Rough Day So Far

All was well this morning. She didn't sleep last night, but we're going to try something different and hopefully we'll nail this insomnia thing.

Around noon, M came over to take her to get her glasses. I offered to take her to lunch and pick up the glasses. M went back to work.

Grandma got ready to go, and put on a fairly nice outfit. We got in the car and I headed for Walmart. I said, "Where do you want to go for lunch?"

"Lunch?? We're not going to M and M's for Thanksgiving?"
(confusion, bewilderment - from both of us)
"No...You and I are going to pick up your glasses and go to lunch."
"What glasses?"
"Your glasses are ready."
"So why did I get all dressed up? Where are we going for dinner? Why aren't we going to M and M's? It's Thanksgiving!"
"It's not Thanksgiving, it's July. You and I are going to eat lunch together." I'm trying my best to sound chipper. I'm trying really hard.
"But....why did I put these clothes on?"
"I'm not sure, but where would you like to eat?"
"I'll eat anything."
[Later]
"Why did I think today was some kind of celebration?"
"Well....it is B's birthday. Is that what you were thinking of?"
"No....but we can celebrate that."
"Ok."

Honestly, that tore my heart out.

Medical Mystery

I changed out her coffee for decaf, and hid her box of soda, hoping that will help with sleep. Good thing, because tonight she made a pot of coffee before bed.

Grandma, won't that keep you up?
Nope, never does.
But it's caffeine.
That's all in your head. You're imagining that.
No, it's a chemical that keeps you awake.
Doesn't do anything to me.

Maybe the Pepsi she's drinking won't, either. (sarcasm)

Notables

Where were you born?
Phoenix.
Really?
Yep.
Where were your brothers born?
Phoenix.
Why?
I guess that's where it happened.
Where do your parents live?
Oklahoma.
Why?
They moved there.
My whole family lived there.
When were you there last?
(shrugs)
You were there for my mom's surgery.
Oh yeah.


Is B your cousin? (My uncle)
Yes. (running out of steam)


You are married?
Yes.
Where is he?
Colorado.
Is he teaching at the university?
No.
What is he doing?
Building computers.
Why can't remember that?
(shrug)
Was I at your wedding?
Yep.
You sure are happy.
I sure am.
Why are you here?
Work.
Will you stay with me?
Yep.
My house can be your....your....airport.
Sounds good to me.

Your husband sure is handsome. Quietly handsome. I don't know if you think he's quietly handsome, but I do.


Grandma, please take your pills.
I did.
No, these are Thursday's pills. Today is Thursday.
I already took them.
No, you did not.
Yes I did!
TAKE THEM.
I'm going to smack you.
Bring it. But take those.
Ok. You and your dang pills.

Strike Two

She didn't sleep last night on the new stuff. Arg.

A Note

I was in the office working, and I heard her talking. I thought maybe she was talking in her sleep. But then it went on. I stood around the corner and listened. She was crying. I went in and sat at her feet.

"I was just thinking about Dale. He could sing! He sang opera, and I was just thinking how I wish people could hear him sing, but then I thought no one would know his songs, because no one listens to opera." I smiled and rubbed her leg.

"Does anyone else in my family sing? Does B?" I nodded (she doesn't have her hearing aids in and I'm tired of yelling).

"S plays the piano, I think. I sing a little. I sing alto, but I'm just so-so."

I just smiled, patted her leg, kissed her forehead, and went back to work. I wonder if she does that often? Sits on the couch and cries alone. It made me sad.

Seroquel

She was prescribed Seroquel to help her sleep at night. I gave her one at about 8:30 last night (pharmacist said to do it when the sun goes down), and by 9:00, she hit the couch. Sweet! I thought. Maybe she will actually sleep tonight.

At about midnight, I heard her get up and use the restroom, and when I went to check on her, she'd put her night clothes on and tucked herself into bed. Konked out snoring. Excellent.

I got up at 8:00 and found part of a cork in the sink, and the bottle opener with the rest of the cork nearby. Uh-oh. I went on a Wine Hunt and found a bottle in the fridge. Where she got that bottle, I do not know. Amazing that she can't remember what year it is, but remembers where she stashes her wine (which I have YET to find).

She's not supposed to be drinking at all, but especially not since she's on a sleeping med. I dumped out about half the bottle and put it back in the fridge. Maybe the alcohol will rinse down the gobs of funk I put down the drain yesterday.

It's 11:00 am and she's still sleeping. 14 hours and counting. I can hear her snoring in the next room, so I know she's getting some much-needed sleep.

Update: she slept until 12:30pm. Doc's going to give her something else. I found a large, empty wine bottle in her bathroom (different than the one that had been opened). Neat.

Notes

She's having trouble remembering words tonight, but can describe them. Rice, spaghetti, normal words.

She didn't know who the president is, and asked what year it was. She was surprised it was 2009 already.

She talked Tom, her brother. Warmed my heart to hear them talking.

She did not feed the dogs tonight. (I did, they said thank you.) This is usually one of her sticking points when she's arguing that she doesn't have Alzheimer's.

She also didn't shower today, but she did yesterday. She will tomorrow (because I'll see to it if she doesn't do it herself).

Little Things

She whacked her arm on the counter about an hour ago and it bled a lot. She put alcohol on it, but no bandage.

Just now, she looked down at her shirt and saw blood. I said, "Graham, you're still bleeding."
"Why am I bleeding? How did I do that?"

Am I supposed to time her lapses? An hour tonight.

Also couldn't figure out what a sound was and was somewhat upset by it: the oven timer.

Do You Like Grilled Cheese?

We drove to the post office, which took us near ASU.

"I love living here. I love the college."
"Yeah, they have cute shops."
"I love this town and I will never live anywhere else. I AM NOT GOING TO OKLAHOMA. I know if I go to Oklahoma, even for a visit, my kids will sell all my possessions and my house. And I'm pretty sure they'll put me in a home."
"That is not true, Grandma."
"Oh, so you've talked to them about this??"
"No, I just know your children love you and would never do that."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do."
"Well I am not moving. Never, ever."
"Do you like grilled cheese?"
"I'll eat anything."

Yesterday's Funny

We were talking about getting B something for her birthday.

"I don't have any money!" Grandma said.
"M gave you money."
(loud, overly dramatic gasp)
"LET'S GO GET DRUNK! WE'LL JUST GET HER A CARD AND DRINK THE REST!!!!"

Night Time

I woke up at about 5:30 because I was stifling hot, and because Grandma was doing something noisy. She hadn't been to bed yet. She didn't see me.

Because she broke the wine bottle, she'd said she was going to drink Pepsi. I said not to, she did anyway, so she didn't sleep. I went back to bed.

I woke up at about 8:00 and there was a note under my door:

"Libby, I never went to sleep! Alcohol didn't help! I think I'll drown myself. I love you!"

I went looking for Grandma and she was in the kitchen, confused by the coffee maker. I asked her how she slept. "Fine!" she said. I remade the pot of coffee that was full of grounds.

I turned on the air. The heat was on 85. Oy.

The Phrase That Pays

M learned a new term at the doc visit today: Therapeutic Fibbing.

Lately, it's all I do.

Living With Grandma, Day 1

Today was both a whirlwind and uneventful.

I got here as Grandma and M were headed to the Alzheimer's appointment*. After they left, I cleaned out the fridge and set up my office. I needed a few things, so I went to Target.

I got home from Target and Grandma was here alone. The cleaning crew called, but Grandma answered, and I picked up the other phone to listen:

"Hi, this is C, I'm on my way over to clean your house."
"Don't come! Don't come today! I have family in from Oklahoma and it just won't work. Come next week!"
"Uhm, ok, I..."
"Will this bother your finances?"
"No, no, it's ok."
(Me, quietly:) "Please come. It's ok." (She didn't hear me over Grandma's continued protesting.)
"Just come next week. Or next month."
"OK."

M called C back and said to come. Grandma was so set on their not coming, I didn't know what to do. "Catastrophic reactions" is a term I learned recently in relation to Alzheimer's. Not something I want to experience.

M suggested nap time, so I started rubbing my eyes and acting sleepy. I said, "Graham, I'm tired. Let's take naps."
"Oh good! I wanted to lie down too. I'll lay down in the main room." This is the room the cleaning crew would come to first. Drat.

I met them in the driveway and told them, "She really doesn't want you here, but just do your thing no matter what she says, please."

They walked in and Grandma said, "I told you not to come!!"
"They were in the neighborhood, Graham."
"Oh. But I don't want them to clean."
"They're here to clean." (Aside to the lady, "I sure wouldn't complain if you showed up to clean my house!")
"OK, then."

They came, they cleaned, they conquered. All that effort for a house cleaning. Sheesh. She followed them around, bossing and directing. They would make eye contact with me, I'd nod, and they'd do whatever anyway. They mentioned they've noticed her decline, too, and are glad she won't be living alone anymore. Both have parents with a memory condition, so they recognized the signs. She's also been giving them things (like a mixer and boxes of soda). It makes them uncomfortable to take it, but she gets angry with them if they don't take it. She gave them a box of soda today, but left it behind, and tonight, Grandma was very upset that they hadn't taken it.

So that happened. We went to the grocery store, which is a whole 'nuther adventure I'll just sum up as, again, eventful and uneventful all at once.

We came home, she napped and I went running (BOY did I RUN). I made dinner, and all was well. Except her yelling at me over the Bachelorette. She has no idea what kind of dangerous ground she was on by doing that. ;) I found a new wine jug under the stove (the gallon-sized kind). Where did she get that??

Then Whirlwind II. Grandma went off to the bathroom and while she was in there, Tiger, the dog, had a seizure. My mom's dog does this too, except Tiger, when he was finished seizing, couldn't walk. I watched him struggle to stand, struggle harder to walk, and then fall over about 4 times on his way outside. Then I watched him outside, looking for a "spot", struggle to walk and stand and squat. Poor fellow. I also saw a roach the size of a skateboard on the back porch. Awe. Some.

Grandma came back from the bathroom and I told her what had happened. She burst into tears and said, "I'll have to put him down!!" I said we should call M tomorrow and tell him what happened. She said, "I think he has a friend who can come to the house so we can just bury him in the backyard..."

This is a Godsend. Part of this whole ordeal is sending two of her three dogs to see Jesus. I was really having a hard time with Tiger, as he seemed perfectly healthy. So this situation convinced Grandma and me that it's time for Tiger to see Jesus.

But wait! There's more!

I heard a crash. I ignored it. Things break, oh well. Then Grandma came into the kitchen with part of a broken wine bottle, and all the little pieces in her other hand. Oh sh*t. We carefully wrapped the broken bottle in about 10 plastic bags, and I checked her hands for shards. Then I asked her where she was standing when it broke, so I could check for glass (and maybe find her secret alcohol stash). "I was standing right here by the refrigerator." No, it was down the hall somewhere. After some talking, she told me the bathroom.

Glass shards. On the floor. Grandma is often bare-footed.

She. Cannot. Live. Alone. Anymore.

As I was digging out the vacuum, I heard her call Sandy, Everyone's Favorite Neighbor, to ask for her divine wisdom about Tiger. I heard her invite her over for coffee in the morning to "meet my granddaughter." I surmised from Grandma's response that Sandy wisely declined. I am not ready to face that woman, especially not first thing in the morning.

I vacuumed up the shards, and then Grandma wanted to know if I'd been in her house before, and if I'd ever seen her backyard. She also said she hasn't talked to B (her daughter) in awhile, although they've talked several times over the last few days (nights). She's also brought up M (my husband) many, many times today, saying how handsome he is. This is after we started the day with her asking if I was married yet.

She's also started saying "I know I've asked you that before" after everything she asks, even if it's the first time.

A completely non-descript, yet eventful day.

*M will report the official word to the masses when he's ready, but in a nutshell, she's a textbook case.

Gross, Grosser, and Most Grossest

Just cleaned out Grandma's fridge. Much grossness. I have decided the winner was the Bacon Ranch dressing, because a.) when I tried it a couple weeks ago, it made me gag, b.) it was 7 years old, and c.) the smell of it going down the sink made me gag again. Double gag factor won over the 5-year-old mayo, the 12-year-old horseradish sauce (which was hard) and the four bottles of unknown content and origin.

Also cleaned out the cabinets for take out containers, trash, and more take out containers, and then more trash. I don't remember her ever being one of those post-depression, wash-the-foil-and-use-it-again sorts, but she seems to have a fear of throwing things away.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Driving

Today, M told me about a call he got from G yesterday. I hope I tell this correctly.

She called to say she'd been to a doctor. When quizzed, she didn't know which doctor or how she'd gotten there. But she'd been to a doctor who said she can drive (this is a common story from Grandma). This time, she wanted to be sure, so she'd gone to her General Practitioner. But he said she'd better not drive, so she's decided not to drive.

Hm.

Beautiful & Heartbreaking Video On Alz

Notes From The Therapist

One of the common mistakes made by people caring for Alzheimer's patients is trying to prove to the patient that they have Alzheimer's. Presenting evidence, using logic, and arguing will not work. If they don't see it, they don't see it. You have to live in their reality, and go with whatever they think is true and whatever they can handle believing.

Agree with her as much as possible. Don't aggravate or frustrate her. Try to give as much positive affirmation as possible and help her feel validated. "I take care of myself!" "Yes, Graham, I noticed you fed the dogs this morning," and then change the subject to something she can talk about comfortably, such as the past.

Also, recognize her feelings. "I hear your frustration." "I see that you're angry." "That must be scary to you." She needs to feel like her feelings are being heard.

These are both ideas to keep her a tiny bit more cooperative, hopefully. The more frustrated she gets, the more we argue with her, the more we try to convince her she's wrong, the harder this transition will be. Keep her as happy as possible.

How You Like Them Apples?

So I've been in NY for the last week, and the other night was having dinner with friends. My cell phone rang during dinner, and I normally wouldn't answer (how RUDE), except it was Grandma.

"Hi Grandma."
"Hi Libby! How are you?"
"I'm good. What's going on?" (The girls at the table are looking at me quizzically.)
"Libby, will you please tell me your mom and dad's phone number?"
"Sure Grandma, it's 111-111-1111."
"Oh thank you! And while I have you on the phone, what's your number, sweet girl?" (facial expression)
"It's 111-111-1111."
"Oh thank you! Well, I'm doing really well, Libby. I have my house, and my three big dogs and I have my car and I can go anywhere I want whenever I want and I'm really, really happy! I am NOT going to Oklahoma."
"OK, Grandma. I'm glad you're happy."
"Well, call me sometime, Sweetheart! We never talk anymore!"
"OK, I will, Grandma. I love you!"
"I love you too. Bye bye."

Grandma writes down phone numbers all the time. Scraps of paper litter her kitchen with phone numbers she's written over and over and over again. $20 says my parents' 15-year-old number is on about 47 little scraps of paper very near her phone. Now, how she got my 4-month-old cell phone number is a mystery.

She seems to have forgotten I was just there a week ago, and that I will be back in a few days.

That night, she called my parents no less than 9 times. They answered the first two, but the last 7, which went up until 4 a.m., weren't answered because the phone was unplugged.

Oy vey.

Apologies

M reminded Grandma of what she said to me the other night, and she apologized. People can tell you "it's the Alzheimer's talking -- don't take it to heart", but you do. A little piece of you shrivels up like a little raisin and it hurts. To hear that she apologized and said she didn't mean it really means a lot to me.

I wonder how much longer we'll have the opportunity to talk to her like this. Will she continue to be mean? Will she finally accept what's happening? If she does continue to be mean, how much longer will we be able to sit her down after the fact and hear an apology?

Prayers:
1. That she'll stop being mean.
2. That she'll find some way to accept this. She's grieving and angry, but I do hope she'll move on to whatever's next emotionally.
3. Peace for the entire situation.
4. For more creative ways of dealing with her.

No Bienvenidos, No Money

This is a long one. Pop some corn.

It's been an interesting night. Graham went to the dentist today - so glad that tooth is out and hopefully taken care of. We were at M&M's for dinner, and all was well. She was her usual self, no biggie.

Then we got in the car to go home. I asked her if I could borrow a suitcase for my trip tomorrow, and leave my smaller one with her. She said, sure, I can mail you your suitcase. I said, you don't need to - I'll come get it next week when I'm here.

That's when it started.

"Why are you coming?"
"To spend some time with you."
"Why are you really coming? There's more to it than that. What's behind this?"
(I'm shocked at her intuition.)
"I just want to spend some time with you, Grandma."
"I think there's more to it. Why are you coming?"
(Nervous.)
"To help you remember some things."
"You tell me what I'm not remembering. I remember everything. I feed my dogs, I clean my house. What am I not remembering?" (Very defensive, starting to heat up.)
"Well, you don't shower very often, you don't take your meds, you don't do laundry, and you do NOT clean your own house."

I don't remember the exact wording of a chunk of it. Just a bunch of defensiveness and irrational reasoning. There was no logic. And it's just not true. I've been here four? Five days? And she just showered this morning. When I hugged her goodnight last night, I nearly gagged at the smell of unshoweredness. I'm not saying this to be mean: I'm saying this to illustrate that I am not making this up. But the larger point is I never should have gone there.

Part of me was hoping she would just forget and move on (the beauty of Alzheimer's - you get do-overs and I'm certain that's the grace of God when you're with someone who has it), but she didn't.

"You need to just go on with your life. You are not welcome to come over if that's why you're coming."
"Grandma, I care about you and would feel like I was doing something very wrong if I didn't take care of you."
"Do not come for that reason. Move on with your life."
"You took care of me when I was in the hospital. You would do the same thing for me, right?"
"Yes, I would."
[more conversation]
"You need to know that I have a personal life and I love my life, so if you're going to stay with me, you may not tell M & M and B & S everything. Don't go writing everything down for them."
(I'll admit, this part scared me. How did she know?)
"OK, Graham. No problem."
(Silence. Her contemplating, me fuming.)
"Sometimes it takes me awhile to come around to things. I know you love me."
"I love you too much to let you get away with this."
"I know you do, honey."

But the damage was done. It hurt a lot to hear all that. I know, I know, I can't expect her to do the Dance of Joy at the idea that she's not taking care of herself and someone else has to come in to do it. But I didn't expect the meanness. Grandma's never, ever been mean before.

I called M. He's dealt with this over and over the last two years and has been bitched out by her over and over and I'm sure he's felt even worse than this. He's told her the truth and been ripped to shreds. I read some advice somewhere that says to be honest with Alzheimer's patients. Gently, but honest. BS. You haven't met this patient. [Sorry, I meant a Person With Alzheimer's. I was schooled by M today on how to be person-centered in my language (a class she had to take - we chuckled). Pretty sure shuffling the words around are not going to have an impact on her acceptance of this issue. But I digress... I mean, I am a Person With Digression.]

M told me to lie. Lie, lie, lie. Here's why you're here, here's why you're staying with her, none of it Alzheimer's-related. OK. I can do that. Makes me feel a little bit like an undercover cop, and a lot bit like a Big Fat Liar. I told him I usually feel it's better to be honest and deal with whatever hits the fan than to lie and have to deal with the lie and what's on the fan. Not in this case. I have to lie. I absolutely have to lie my butt off. Tell her what she wants to hear, and then do the right thing anyway. The part of my stomach that knots itself when I'm doing something wrong is just going to have to cool it for awhile. There's no other way around it.

I told M that it seems that no matter what, she has an undercurrent of suspicion. Tonight, she was frighteningly cognizant. All hands on deck, all the lights on, everything was there. She was even perceptive. Rational, no. But even when she's in the middle of a an Alz hiccup, she still has this undercurrent of suspicion. I think she knows, deep in her core, something just isn't right. But I think she's far too stubborn to ever, ever admit that.

So here's something relatively amusing:

Her stomach's been sour the last two nights, and last night she took the last of her antacids. I told her I'd drive her to the store to get more. (I needed some seltzer anyway because of the knots in my stomach.) We were on the way to the store and she decided she would use her VIP Points grocery card to pay for it. I had cash on me, so I wasn't worried. "OK Grandma."

We got to the store and she bee-lined it for the wine. I didn't say anything, and headed for the seltzer while she went for the Pepcid. I found her in the meds aisle and she said, "We're not using any of your money. I am paying for all this tonight."

"But Grandma, you don't have any cash on you." (I know, I'm trying to rationalize with her. Not going to work.)
"I'll use my debit card."
"I thought you lost it." She pulled all the cards out of her purse (which she miraculously found) and found the VIP Points grocery card.
"I'll talk to them about this."
"I have cash. I'll just take care of it. But I don't have much cash, so we'll have to put the wine back."
"Oh, ok. I understand, honey. I still want to talk to them about my VIP card."
"OK Grandma."

This all happened in under two minutes:
We got to the self-checkout and I quickly scanned the Pepcid and seltzer. I had Grandma scan her card, which she turned and handed to the girl at the desk. I turned around, paid, and grabbed the receipt, and Grandma grabbed the Pepcid and seltzer to show the girl with her card. Behind her back, I held up the receipt and mouthed, "we've got it." The girl half-nodded and half-smiled. Grandma was asking her about using the VIP card to pay. I handed Grandma the receipt and said, "Look! She took care of us! How nice!" To which Grandma gushed all over the poor girl about how sweet she was and thank you so much for helping us! I smiled at the girl and mouthed, "thanks." She half-nodded, clearly confused.

Pretty sure that's 007-points-worthy.

In the car on the way home, she said, "wasn't it so sweet for that girl to help us?? It's so late at night and she was willing to help us out. She's so sweet!"

Yep. So sweet. For lip-reading and playing along. She gets 007 points too.

liquor + pain

Last night was a little sad. Grandma's tooth is horribly painful - to the point where she was crying/praying in agony. I told her she could either have a drink or a Vicodin for the pain. She said she wanted to be wise, so she'll take the wine. (Personally, I'd take the drugs, but that's just me.) I had the Vicodin in my purse next to my bed, so I felt safe going to my room and turning in for the night.

She started yelling for me about 30 mins later. I'll admit, I ignored it for about 5 mins. She's done this before, and she just wants me to know where the towels are, or that I can turn on the fan, or do I want more pillows? I was hoping she'd think I was asleep. But she kept yelling so I went to find her.

I found her in the bathroom on the toilet (drawers up, just sitting for a place to sit) and bawling. Tears streaming down her face. She said that normally alcohol takes away all her pain and puts her to sleep (!), but tonight she'd been drinking and it wasn't working. The pain was shooting down her neck to her collarbone (damn tooth!). I went for a cold pack in the freezer, praying for wisdom. She'd been drinking, so I was really hesitant to give her a Vicodin. But with all her yelling, I had to do something.

I put the cold pack on her jaw, put her to bed, and googled Vicodin + alcohol, to see what the level of risk was. It said that if you have 3+ drinks per day, you might not be allowed to take Vicodin (acetaminophen) because of liver damage risks. Oy. But she was yelling in the next room.

I went into the kitchen to inventory the alcohol left. She had more of that mint liquor (sick), but everything else appeared to be in tact. I decided she could have half a Vicodin, given that much alcohol, and knowing she would continue drinking after I went to bed later. For HER sake, I wish she could have had two of them, but I couldn't live with myself if she somehow damaged her internal organs for the sake of a night of sleep for me. This is so hard.

I gave her the half Vicodin. She went to sleep very soon thereafter. I'm up this morning and the same amount of alcohol is here. Praise God. I was hoping the Vicodin would help her pass out.

That was at about midnight and now it's about 11am and she's still asleep. I keep checking on her and she's snoring. The pain must be intense. Poor girl.

Liquor

Last night, well after she'd had her pain pill and I'd hidden the rest, I opened the bottle of Pinot Noir I bought. I poured a little tiny bit into two glasses and gave Graham one. We were sitting in front of a movie.

She got up and poured herself another full glass (dinner glass, not wine glass), and then another. She then turned to me and said, "I really don't like this wine."

"Well good thing it's mine, then."
"Oh, I thought it was for everyone!"
"It is, but I picked it out."
"Well I don't like it."
"Then stop drinking it."

She then poured herself half a glass of that mint liquor (see previous post). And then another half glass. Oy. So that's two large glasses of wine and two glasses of liquor.

I went to my room to go to sleep. She came into the room and said, "What are you doing here?? I saw the light on and wondered - you're here!!" And then went into her speeches about where sheets are, towels are, and how I should make myself at home. "Thanks, Grandma."

A bit later, same thing.

A bit later, she came in to tell me she wouldn't be coming in anymore and I could go to sleep.

A bit later, she came in again and said she needed more wine because she couldn't sleep.

I got up this morning and my Pinot Noir was gone and half the mint liquor was gone. So that's an entire bottle of wine (except the 5 oz I had) and half a bottle of liquor. In one night. Thank GOD I took away the pain pills.

Notes

"Libby, I just don't EVER cuss except, well... all the time."

This is true.

"Libby, open the glove box."
"No, we need to get going." (There's stuff in there she can't have.)
"OPEN THE GLOVE BOX, DAMMIT."
"OK."

Note to self: grow a pair.

Why She Can't Live Alone

This is why she can't live alone:

"Grandma, you cannot have liquor. You just took a pain pill."
"I did?"
"Yes."
"Oh, ok."

[I turned around to my laptop to write this. I turned back around.]

"Grandma! What are you doing???"
[Has old dog food can in her hand and is pouring liquor into it.]
"You CANNOT have that."
"Why?"
"You just took a pain pill."
"Oh, let me pour it back."
"No, that's disgusting."
"It is not, I just rinsed it out."
"It's a dog food can, yes it is. You may NOT pour that back into the bottle."
"It's good and expensive and I don't want to waste it." (It's $5. The double bottle of crappy wine was more.)
[I take the liquor bottle and put the cap on and hold it away from her. She walks to the fridge with the dog food can, and puts it in.]
"Libby, where is it?! I don't want to waste it!" [She's still standing IN the fridge, less than 5 seconds have gone by.]
"In the fridge, Graham."
"Where is it?? Did you dump it???"
"No, right in the fridge, where you put it."
"Oh. You know, Libby, I have never had restrictions on my drinking until you came around."
"Get used to it."

Oy vey. And I spent the day wondering if we were doing the right thing and praying that God would show me what I need to see (either for or against moving her). Dude. As much liquor as she was about to ingest, with those pills handy (she wanted to take TWO), and her forgetting that she JUST took one, OH GOOD LORD. This is, I believe, "sundowning." She was playing with a full deck until about an hour ago. Totally spot on, memories in tact. And now she's trying to drink about 8oz. of mint liquor from a dog food can after her pain pill. Fantastic.

And now she's joyfully drinking milk out of the carton.

Notes

I guess I thought it would be a little more cut-and-dry than this. She's remembering things she didn't used to remember (I told her I flew in from Denver, 20 mins later, she said, you live in Denver, right? Last time I was here, she couldn't remember it at all, the whole time I was here.), she's not remembering things Mark told her 5 mins ago (what's happening at 2:00?).

I thought it would be more obvious. Sometimes, it's painfully obvious. She's going to hurt herself without help. Other times, it's like she's the same person and the idea of making her leave her home of 40 years is devastating and sends my anxiety through the roof and tears to my eyes.

This is going to suck. A lot.

"My brothers were allergic to cow milk, so we had to get goats. Drinking that milk takes some getting used to."

"You have keys? I want to copy them. Where did you get my keys? Give those back to me."