Thinking Of You
Being as mom is on vacation, she asked if I would stop by and visit my great grandmother, who is living in a nearby nursing home. "Of course, mom!" I said with pangs of guilt for not visiting as often as I would like to without being asked.
So after Andy got home on Wednesday, Elliott and I set out for gramma's (Noah was sick.) We stopped and got her some tulips and a "thinking of you" card. To be quite honest, the card is more of a necessity than a gesture. She has dimensia, and the names on her card marked "Grandma" let her know who we are and why we're visiting.
Between the busy check-out line, traffic and light rain, we didn't get to grandma's until 7:30 p.m. The corridors were dim and quiet. A few underpaid nurses glanced at us numbly before disappearing through a door marked Employees Only. I was glad they ignored us, because it allowed me to further hide the fact that I didn't remember where grandma's room was.
There were two or three residents of the nursing home "parked" in their wheelchairs outside of their rooms; were they waiting to go in or out? I will never understand this. I shamefully smiled to myself as a mental image of some random person (me) took their chairs by the handles and whipped an unexpected shitty.
My stomach tightened just a bit when we came to room 109. My eyes made instant contact with grandma's room mate, who mom says is deliriously paranoid with the notion that people are trying to kill her. I smiled widely and held the purple tulips out as a peace offering as if to exclaim "See? Flowers! Not a rope!"
When I turned to my grandmother, all of my insides turned to mush. My once proud and robust Great Grandma Marshall had shrunk considerably. Her still clothed, 91-year old body was laying in a fetal position on top of her covers as she slept.
"Grandma?" I whispered. She blinked as she looked up at me, and then at Elliott. She didn't blink herself awake, she just gazed at us for a moment. I nervously jabbered to her as I put the flowers in water. I set the card up next to her flowers and put them on her bedside table, so that she would know somebody had been to visit ~ regardless of the visit's lack in value.
We both gently planted kisses on her cheek before leaving, turning back only once to drape an afghan over her frail shoulders though the room wasn't chilly. Foolish to think that a blanket could compensate for my time so poorly spent.
I think I'll go back this evening.
I think I'll keep going.
In retrospect, our token card is now indeed true. We are thinking of her.
So after Andy got home on Wednesday, Elliott and I set out for gramma's (Noah was sick.) We stopped and got her some tulips and a "thinking of you" card. To be quite honest, the card is more of a necessity than a gesture. She has dimensia, and the names on her card marked "Grandma" let her know who we are and why we're visiting.
Between the busy check-out line, traffic and light rain, we didn't get to grandma's until 7:30 p.m. The corridors were dim and quiet. A few underpaid nurses glanced at us numbly before disappearing through a door marked Employees Only. I was glad they ignored us, because it allowed me to further hide the fact that I didn't remember where grandma's room was.
There were two or three residents of the nursing home "parked" in their wheelchairs outside of their rooms; were they waiting to go in or out? I will never understand this. I shamefully smiled to myself as a mental image of some random person (me) took their chairs by the handles and whipped an unexpected shitty.
My stomach tightened just a bit when we came to room 109. My eyes made instant contact with grandma's room mate, who mom says is deliriously paranoid with the notion that people are trying to kill her. I smiled widely and held the purple tulips out as a peace offering as if to exclaim "See? Flowers! Not a rope!"
When I turned to my grandmother, all of my insides turned to mush. My once proud and robust Great Grandma Marshall had shrunk considerably. Her still clothed, 91-year old body was laying in a fetal position on top of her covers as she slept.
"Grandma?" I whispered. She blinked as she looked up at me, and then at Elliott. She didn't blink herself awake, she just gazed at us for a moment. I nervously jabbered to her as I put the flowers in water. I set the card up next to her flowers and put them on her bedside table, so that she would know somebody had been to visit ~ regardless of the visit's lack in value.
We both gently planted kisses on her cheek before leaving, turning back only once to drape an afghan over her frail shoulders though the room wasn't chilly. Foolish to think that a blanket could compensate for my time so poorly spent.
I think I'll go back this evening.
I think I'll keep going.
In retrospect, our token card is now indeed true. We are thinking of her.
posted by Felecia at Friday, March 31, 2006
5 Comments:
Very touching post. Thank you. I had the same experience about a month ago with my last remaining aunt. She was half the size I remembered. Nicely done post.
nice one girl..
I worked in a nursing home for 4 years..( in the activty dept)..nursing homes are a cold place..even though your grandma may not remeber you were there, you know you were there..
go back, and keep going back..it will do you both good.
:)
I am going through the same feelings of guilt having not seen my grandmother for years. my own daughter is yet to even meet her...
ugh... and there is no reason. your post touched me and convicted me all at once...
beautiful...
p.s. can i link your blog???
Sure you can! I would love to hear from you more often and (now enter honesty...) I'm a moron; I can never seem to get to your "my space" page and navigate. I would always hit a road block when they asked me to log in or something. Does that sound right?
yeah... myspace has proven REALLY good for things like networking/etc (with other myspacers) but it sucks for blogging... i linked you :)
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