Annals of Long Term Care

“I’m tired. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

As usual, Grandma expected to be well. It was a weakness not to; she expected it even at 94, and when it eluded her, there was a taint of disgust in her voice.

I leaned over to speak into her ear. “I’ve come to see you, Grandma. It’s Kitty.”

“Kitty, why how wonderful. I haven’t seen you for such a long time.” Her voice was weak. She didn’t move, other than her shoulders laboring to aid her breathing. She continued to face the wall in her room in the nursing home, her knees pulled up to her frail body.

Enough had passed between us for me to be reassured that she knew who I was. It was just before 10:00 AM, and I had hoped her mind might be clearest early in the day. Reports were such that often she didn't recognize someone. And the memory of who had been there or called of late did not last. I thought it was likely that this would be the last time I would see her. It encouraged my heart that she could enjoy the fact that I’d come...even if it was only a momentary happiness.

She was alert and conversing more easily when her son Jake called. She launched into a rerun of a conversation that took its usual path, saying she was not good, not good at all, but better than yesterday, and how was the family? She smiled into the phone, almost laughing when he spoke of his first grandson, her newest great-grandchild. It was amazing how the energy rose in her body. Still, she kept the same position, right hand cradling her cheek, left hand holding the receiver to her ear. There was no earring. This was the first time I’d ever seen her without jewelry. She lifted the phone from her ear, her hand more slender than I remembered, but as always, her nails immaculately painted, thanks to the caring staff. I set the phone back in the cradle and drew nearer to her, my knees on the bed, leaning close to her, speaking by her ear to ease our conversation.

“How is the house?” She wanted to know how the home she had lived in so many years was being kept up.

“It’s beautiful.” I paused and she was silent. “Grandma, you are well taken care of here.”

“Yes, they are so good to me.” She paused, frowning. “The kids shouldn’t have brought me here so soon.”

“You always said your wish would be that you could die in your own bed.”

The energy returned to her voice. “Well, I ain’t dead yet.” Her lips formed a wry smile, and we both laughed.

The nurse was warm to me as I walked out to the nurse’s station. “I saw you on the bed with her, so I didn’t come in.”

“Oh, great,” I groaned. Inside I felt self-conscious about how that may have looked.

She laughed, “No, it was really sweet. Your grandmother is my favorite person in this place.” She meant it, and I understood why. There really is no one like my grandmother for spunk.

“She has the funniest remarks with her special way of saying them, and will walk past the nurses station and just be so appreciative for anything you do for her. She makes you feel so special.”

The other nurse laughed. “She’s one of a kind. She scares me though, when she heads down the back stairs.”

“Three years ago,” I told them, “when she couldn’t lower her new ironing board, she took it down stairs far narrower and steeper than those.” They believed me. “She’s like a mountain goat.” They laughed, having experienced her remarkable agility all too well.

The nurse went on. “She’s been particular up till now. So neat. Wanting her hair in place, her clothes just so.”

We talked about the fact that she was no longer eating much, and that she was down to 95 pounds, at least 60 pounds less than midlife. The nurse then mentioned that an appointment was scheduled to have the nodule that had grown on her thyroid gland checked.

“If something is wrong, do they plan to do anything about it?” I asked.

The nurse indicated that she was thinking the same thing and shook her head.