Mindful....

There is something that has been weighing on my mind for quite some time. It started over two years ago when my grandmother was becoming unable to stay alone by herself.

Several family members took turns taking her in their homes or staying with her for a few weeks at a time, to help her with her forgetfulness. She couldn't remember things she had just completed. She couldn't remember if she had bought something and rushed  back to town to buy multiples of what she already had. She would forget if she had taken her medicine and would take more doses than recommended.

She was failing, and eventually she had to be placed in a nursing home so she would have round the clock supervision. When she was here, I was a bit of a basket case. As much as I love, admire, and respect my grandmother, she drove me nuts.

She would ask the same thing over and over. She would ask repeatedly why she was here and to take her home. She would become anxious and frustrated and retreat to her room, only coming out for meals and to use the bathroom.

But most of the time she was up at night. Searching for an over the counter medicine she had become addicted to. It was something she didn't think she could live with out. I would hide it, only to have her searching the cupboards and drawers until she found it. I spent my nights lying in bed listening and when I heard her get up, I was up too, chasing her down and prying the bottle from her hands. It was a nightmare.

It's not something that is going to get better either. She continues to get more and more forgetful. And we all fear the day that she will forget who we are. It may not come to that, but it is a distinct possibility. It's depressing. It's more depressing when I realize that her daughter, my mom, is starting to show some of those characteristics.

She forgets things. They may not seem like big things, but they are starting to be numerous things. It has me worried. It has me worried it's hereditary and she will be just like her mom. The alternative is even worse. Her dad had Alzheimer's. A tall lanky farmer, who could do anything, eventually becoming a shuffling shell of a man who seldom spoke. Once in awhile a smile would come across his face and he would mention something in his low deep voice that took some deciphering to understand what he had said. He passed away at 76, unrecognizable of the man he used to be.

This growing old stuff sucks. I have tried to impress upon my brothers that I can see big changes in mom. I can see her growing forgetfulness. I hear her tell stories that she gets mixed up and  confused about the details. I see her nervousness and growing frustration with small, insignificant things.

She's fine, they always reply. I can't seem to impress upon them that down the road, and quite possibly sooner than any of us expected, there are going to be some big changes. Decisions will have to be made. Acceptance of things beyond our control.

They think I am making much to do about nothing. It seems to be a recurring theme in my family. When there is something that is hard to accept, or a problem that they don't want to face, they pretend it's not there. They get that from mom. She does that quite often. She did that when grandma stayed with one of us. She would make excuses to run errands or wander off to do something that required her "immediate attention". I felt like I got left holding the bag quite a bit in grandma's care.

I think she just couldn't deal with it. It was easier to just ignore the problem. Hoping that somehow if we don't address it, it will resolve it's self on it's own. It seldom does and a person just ends up with additional problems.

There are going to be big changes coming. Maybe not so soon, or maybe sooner than I think. It has me anxious and worried of just what will happen to her or to me.  What have I inherited from my mom and her parents? Will I inherit more from my father's side of the family? Have I inherited dad's problems as well as mom's problems? As I age, will I have good physical health and lose my mind? Or will I have poor health and be sharp as a tac? Which, if given a choice, would I prefer?  Which is the lesser of two evils?

It makes me mindful of my mind, and me telling myself that it will all work out somehow. I guess some things really are genetic.