Sad is No Fun

Thursday: Family caregiver extraordinaire – Your grandmother has stopped responding and isn’t eating except if they feed her and even then only a little. You should come.

Friday: Me- How are you feeling?
Grammy – Pretty awful.
Me- Can you get around at all?
Grammy- They make me walk a little with the walker. I don’t like it.
Me- Do you want to get out of here?
Grammy-I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.
Me- I’m pretty sure if you can do the things they ask you to do and get stronger and are willing to ask for help, we’ll find you another apartment.

Grammy proceeds to eat all of her lunch. By herself.

Saturday: Grammy is in the lobby.
Me- How did you get way down here?
Grammy- (with a twinkle in her eye) I scooted with my feet.
Me- How was therapy?
Grammy- They make me use that walker.
Me- Better than falling over?
Grammy- (smiles really big)
Me- Can we bring you anything?
Grammy- Thinner socks. (pause) And a big, juicy hamburger.

As I leave she yells a reminder to not forget the socks.

My heart is optimistic and my head is realistic. If she goes back to the apartment and has a couple of sad days in a row. If she doesn’t remember to ask for help. If she doesn’t get strong enough.

She looks small and crumpled in her wheelchair. But today she smiled. I’ll take it.