Free at last, at least physically

I’m angry. Angry with how life goes, angry with growing old, angry with realizations, and angry with responsibility. I’m the one with no job and nothing to do all day so I was dubbed as the best choice for “babysitting” my grandma. Now that I’ve watched her for just these few days, I’m linked. Linked to the worry, linked to pain and frustration, linked to the loss. It hurt so badly when I lost my grandfather that I’ve distanced myself from the potential loss of my grandmother. Well that’s all gone awry. I find myself thinking all the caregivers are going to run away, I mean my grandmother has been rather, well, bitchy lately and it’s not how I remember her being, ever. I’m being paid to do this, and being paid well, but that’s the least of my worries, though my mother and one of my aunts keeps telling me to “think of the money.” I can’t do that. All I can think of is the emotional trauma I feel like I’m being put through. I can’t abandon her, my friends, with my benefit in mind, curse my family, as I’ll admit I did as well. But it’s no more their fault than my grandmothers. Sure, I wish I hadn’t been the one watching her these last few days, but in a way, it is my duty. It is my belief that this duty rests firstly on my mother and her four sisters (though I would never, ever trust my youngest aunt with the duty of taking care of my grandmother). I am the eldest of five grandchildren and a few months ago I was given the task of sitting with my grandmother during the day for about a week and for some reason when she was asked by a psychologist what my she was looking for in a caregiver, my grandmother replied with, “Megan.” Go me, oh yay… Just those few hours a day wore me out, had me going to bed early when I really didn’t have much to do all day to watch her. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like for me when I can finally go home after watching her for 24 hours a day for a few days. I have had a few emotional breakdowns and I know my arms should be sore. I’ve had to support my grandmother’s weight a few times daily and my arms wind up all shaky but no soreness yet. She knows she’s losing her memory, state the fact herself, and most times she confuses things she’s seen and done in the past with what’s going on now. She continues to argue daily that someone is trying to or has cut down the apple trees in the front yard, at one point she even said, “I hope they fall off the ladder,” and when I’ve told her no one is doing any such thing she tells me that she can show me the saw dust, which is really impossible as she hasn’t been out of the house except for when I’ve wheeled her to and from the car. She keeps rearranging things on the table where she sits and on the makeshift table next to her recliner, just constant, unnecessary rearranging. It’s all killing me inside, in my head I keep begging for my grandmother to come back to me, but now that I’ve been watching her, I don’t remember what she used to be like, I can’t see the slightest glimpse of her. She pretty much can’t walk, she was in better shape physically before she went to California, but we’re guessing my aunt who lives down there didn’t make her walk, and when she gets overwhelmed she doesn’t seem to be able to think clearly. I’m losing my patience and my mind. 8 o’clock isn’t coming fast enough. I need to leave; I need to escape what my grandma cannot.

To my friends: Spending what little time I had with you on Sunday was a greater help then you might realize. Regardless of the fact that I was near tears and probably rather depressing, the two of you provided a shelter of sorts, a place where I could physically show how I was feeling. I can only hope I didn’t do wrong by you in acting the way I did. Thanks you two, I love you guys, and yes, you’re still the voices in my head.



I'm finally home now and trying to get the words "do not resucitate" out of my head...