Monday, November 19, 2012

A few days ago my mom told me to call my grandmother. She's in a nursing home now, temporarily, while they run some tests. Actually, as of today the tests were finished. She has Parkinson's and, more serious, a type of frontal lobe dementia. The latter is apparently characterized by rapid decline, paranoia, aggressiveness. It was diagnosed based on her current symptoms.

I should have called earlier, I realize, but I didn't. Partly because I was busy, and mostly because I was afraid of what state she would be in when I did call.

But she was fine, perfectly lucid when we spoke. She said she's ready to die, but her body keeps living. She throws this off in a casual manner, and all I can say is--and this is being honest, actually--"Well, we're happy to have you for however long you're here." I figure she's lived long enough, she has the right to say whatever she wants. She talks about meeting my grandfather for the first time. She says the food's good. I remind of her when she and my grandfather drove me to Disney World, when I was five. How my grandfather used to throw me in the pool. She asks if I'm dating anyone, and I say no, and she says you'll find her when you stop looking. I say she's probably right. She's glad I called, she says. I am too.