At first, she just started repeating stories I had heard before.  Then she couldn’t remember where her purse or her keys were.  As time passed, she started getting agitated for no reason, and mixing up who was who.  We placed which day it was on the refrigerator so she would know.

She couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t remember anything anymore.  She didn’t know, but we knew.  Alzheimer’s.

I never lived near my grandma until November 2000. My Aunt Wanda lived next door and would check in on her and my Papa.  My dad and other aunts and uncle lived in other states and visited often.  I lived only about a mile and half away.  I would swing by on mother’s day, father’s day, birthdays, and Christmas.  I had a growing family, and it was hard to get over there and keep up with life.  Even though I lived closer then I had my whole life, I still only visited when I felt I had to.  Harsh and embarrassing, I know, but it was the truth.

In January of 2005, my Papa passed away.  As you can imagine, my grandmother was devastated losing her partner of 60 years.  She struggled trying to remember he was gone, and how it happened, but continually repeated that she knew he was in a better place.  I attended the funeral and said goodbye and paid my respects.  I promised myself that I would try to come around more often even though I had my excuse down pat.  It would be difficult being a mom of four.

One day, I couldn’t handle the guilt of neglecting her.  Everyone knew my grandma loved Wendy’s, especially their chicken sandwich.  My boys were in school, so I told her I would pick her up and take her with my 3 year old and 3 month old baby.  She called me several times trying to remember when I was coming.  I called her that morning and reminded her that this was the day.  As I went up and knocked on her door, she met me all dressed up in a suit and her hair fixed very neatly.  When she saw me in my jeans and T-shirt, she said she probably overdressed.  I told her she looked great and helped her into my minivan.  We went to Wendy’s and I ordered her food, and we laughed at the girls’ antics.  She thanked me over and over and I promised I would do it again, but you know how it goes.  I got caught up in life.  Before I knew it, we were in September, and I had only been by the house a couple of times.  I hadn’t taken her to Wendy’s even once.

In September of 2005, I got a call that she was being rushed in an ambulance to the hospital.  Her lifelong friend Faye had gone to pick her up for church like she did every Sunday.  My grandma didn’t answer the door.  She went to church thinking that maybe she would see her there, but my grandma didn’t come.  Faye then called my Aunt Wanda, and she went over to check.  They found her passed out in the bathroom with a fever of 103.  The medics rushed in and thought that she had an infection all through her body.  Due to her Alzheimer’s, she thinks it is cold, and messes with the thermostat and puts on coats and scarf’s even though she might be sweating.  She was overheated and dehydrated. 

I rushed to the ER, and met my aunt there.  They admitted her.  Being in an environment that she did not know, proved to be difficult.  The nurses even had to tie her to the bed one time to prevent her from hurting herself.  She was much calmer if someone that she remembered somehow was there with her.  I told my aunt I would be there as much as I could, and for once, I kept my word.

One night, it was my shift, and I ate dinner with her (I snuck in a Wendy’s chicken sandwich), and then helped get her ready for bed.  She kept asking me if I was going to stay until Faye came.  I kept telling her yes, I would.  It was then I realized how scared she was.  

She struggled remembering what day it was, and didn’t remember she was in the hospital.  Tears would run down her eyes, and she would say that she had raised her five children, and was ready to go to heaven to be with Jesus & Papa. 

Over and over, she told me how cold she was and how she couldn’t go to sleep until she got warm.  I put blankets on her and told her I was sweating.  I threatened to put on a bikini, and she laughed.  She always had a great sense of humor.  She had to living with my Papa.  He aggravated her on a daily basis.

She would dose off, and then wake back up telling me she was cold.  After telling me this thirty times or so, I pretended to mess with the heater.  When that failed to calm her, I suggested that we pray.  I didn’t think she heard me at first.  A few minutes later she started praying.

“Oh, Lord, I’m so cold.  Please make me warm.  And please bless Michelle for staying here with me.”

I choked back the tears.  As I was leaving the hospital, a nurse stopped me.  She told me that I have beautiful hair.  I smiled.  I have always hated my red curly hair.  I told the nurse, it was her fault, and pointed toward my grandma’s hospital room.  Her once curly red hair is now white, but you can still see the evidence.

My Grandma Dovie came home from the hospital.  Because of this hospitalization, we all grappled with the knowledge that she needed to move somewhere for twenty-four hour care.  I went to tell her good-bye.  She was so confused and didn’t understand. 

My Uncle David and my dad did everything to make her as comfortable as possible.  They brought items from her home to live in the assisted living facility.  They even gave her a microwave, so she could feel a sense of independence and make her own food.

That was in 2005, and I haven’t been able to see her since she is in another state.  My dad says that she is so happy there.  She isn’t alone, and is comfortable in her surroundings.

Having inherited her curly, red hair makes me feel special.  She doesn’t remember me anymore, but I will always remember her.