Last Saturday, it snowed a lot. I was trapped in my house because I didn't want to go out in the snow, so I flicked around the television a little. I came across some channels I didn't even know I had, and on one of these channels "227" was playing. "227" is a sitcom about a group of people who happen to be black (nothing to do with the plot, just makes the banter flow) who live in an apartment building in Washington, D.C. It aired in the late 80s-early 90s, and it was one of my favorite shows growing up. I loved Jackee, how she would waddle around flirting. She was the ideal. I used to watch this program every Saturday I would sleep over Grandma's. It was such a magical time then. I loved staying over Granmda's on Saturdays. All the great shows were on the NBC lineup: After "227" came "Golden Girls" then "Empty Nest" followed by "Nurses" (I wasn't crazy about "Nurses") and then "Sisters." During the News, I would adjust the makeup I had put on in Grandma's room during the commercial breaks, and then settle in on the couch for "Saturday Night Live." It may seem like I was just watching tv the whole time, which I was, in addition to eating copious amounts of sweets, and dressing up like a prostitute, but it was fun, and I pretended I was part of the shows. Grandma would play games with me, play acting or checkers. She would wait on me, cook for me. It was great. I loved going to Grandma's house. It was a little red Cape Cod, like many others, but there was something so magical about it, something in the atmosphere there that just felt great. Maybe it did have something to do with all the old movies and fun tv that I watched there, but a lot of it has to do with Grandma. It's a far cry from the way I usually feel about visiting Grandma now. Sometimes it is a fine visit, cut and dry, good visit. Other times, it involves a laundry list of things to do while I am there. I don't mind helping Grandma, I sometimes like it, but other times it just kind of catches me off guard. Like a few weeks ago, I went to visit Grandma after my class. I thought I would just stay for a little bit, watch "The Price is Right" with her, and go to my internship. "What are you doing now?" She asked me when I start to leave.
"Oh nothing," I answer, "I have to go to my internship, but I have to stop at Stop and Shop first."
"Oh what do I need at Stop and Shop?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say through my clenched teeth. I know this will not be a clean visit. A return will be necessary.
"I need tea," she says. "And bread. But you don't have to bring it back now, you can bring it back whenever." This makes me almost angrier, the notion of driving around with Grandma's tea and bread in my backseat hanging over my head that I need to bring them to her.
"No, no, no," I say aggravated, "I'll just do it now. I'll just go to the store up the street."
"And a jelly donut." Grandma adds. I lose it. The store with the Dunkin Donuts in it is on the other side of town, the one up the street doesn't have a Dunkin Donuts, where am I going to get a jelly donut there?"
"What?! Why do you need a jelly donut right now?"
"Forget the jelly donut," she says, "I really don't need it. I don't want to be an inconvenience."
In my rage over the grocery requests, I seem to forget that most grocery stores do have bakeries where you can get jelly donuts, even if they don't have Dunkin Donuts. I remember this in the car on the way over to the store, and feel bad at how annoyed I get with Grandma. When I would sleep over her house when I was little she would take me to the A&P and let me get whatever I wanted. I'm giving her grief over a jelly donut--there goes the guilt again. I always visit Grandma with the sunniest intentions of being a good granddaughter, like Little Red Riding Hood, but often times leave feeling like the Big Bad Wolf.
I know Grandma misses her old house too. She won't let me drive her by it, even though it is only a few miles from where she lives now. She lived there for almost 60 years, she raised her family there, her grandkids played and grew up in that house. I have lived in my house for a litte over a year and I miss it when we go away for the weekend, I can't imagine how Grandma must feel. I know that it is better for her to be in her apartment building right now, where there are people right across the hall at all times, but sometimes what is better doesn't always feel better. I feel sad thinking about the last time I was in Grandma's house. All the furniture was out, and my parents and I were just doing a final cleaning. At that moment, I didn't feel sad about Grandma selling it and not living there anymore, I felt relief that the whole moving process was over, because it was such a pain. Living in a house for sixty years, one accumulates a lot, and you don't really know what is and isn't an antique, and if you kept everything that had sentimental value, you'd have a couple of moving trucks filled with knick knacks. After a while, I just became desensitized to it. Champagne glasses that I had filled with Schweppes Raspeberry Giner Ale while watching "Golden Girls" were tossed into the Goodwill boxes because they were from the Church tag sale, and weren't valuable enough to move. A part of me and Grandma will always be in her old house, watching tv on Saturday nights, having tacos after my dance class on Wednesdays, eating Sunday dinner with our family, visiting on Christmas Eve. I find change very hard. Does part of me still want to stay at Grandma's on Saturday nights, eating candy and watching "227"? Yes. Would that be weird? Also a yes. Sometimes change is necessary I guess, to put us in roles that are more age appropriate. It is hard when the roles are reversed from what you once knew them to be, like taking care of a parent or grandparent, but like Frank Sinatra says, "That's Life."
JoJo
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
The Diner
My grandmother’s social life these days consists entirely of doctors and dentists. By proxy, this also means that Joanna and my social life consist entirely of doctors and dentists. If a doctor even slightly hints to our grandmother that she may have to come back again for one reason or another (discomfort, pain, etc.) my grandmother will go back, even if she doesn’t feel any discomfort. I have a feeling she is lying when she actually says she does feel a little bit of pain or says she needs to go back. For her, these visits are the equivalent to a night out.
She of course does not take into account how much gas costs, Joanna’s blood pressure, my rage, or anything else a normal person would take into account. For her, we are nothing more than a chauffeur service to her dates with Drs. X, Y, and Z.
This is a woman who used to dress to the nines to travel the world, and now, her big plans include a day in the dentist chair. Is this what happens when you get old? All the things you once feared in life become hobbies? I am pretty certain this isn’t a trait found everywhere, as our dad’s mother used to actually want to do fun things whenever her grandchildren visited her. Alice just doesn’t have that particular gene that would make her go out of her way to please others. If she did, I wouldn’t be spending every single Monday in the goddam dentist’s office.
The one doctor my grandmother should be going to more is the ear doctor. She has a hearing aid, but still can’t hear for shit. My sister and I were driving her home from her dentist today, and while we passed my house, I noticed there was a package on the front stoop, and, being the anal sonofabitch I am, asked Joanna to turn around so that I could put it in the house. For some reason, any change of direction startles the elderly, and my grandmother wanted to know what was going on:
ALICE: Where are we going?
JOANNA: Back to Kathy’s house to pick up a package.
ALICE: What are we doing?
JOANNA: Going to Kathy’s house. There’s a package by the door and we want to put it in the house.
ALICE: What’s wrong with the door?
JOANNA: NOTHING. We are putting the package in the house that’s BY THE DOOR.
ALICE: We’re going to Kathy’s house? Why?
JOANNA: BECAUSE THERE’S A BUNCH OF GUYS MASTURBATING ON THE FRONT LAWN AND WE ARE GOING TO CHECK IT OUT!!!
Grandma stopped asking after that.
After this, we went to the local diner in our town for lunch. It’s obvious that once upon a time, this diner catered to young Pleasantville like couples, but now, the clientele is strictly made up of people who collect social security. Maybe these are the Pleasantville couples left over from the 1950’s, but I think not, as these people don’t look like they were ever young or in love.
The waitresses here are all a little past middle age. They are the type of waitress who call you “honey” or “sweetie” but you would never want to be on their bad side. Our waitress today was Pam. Pam is the name I appointed her because she looks like a Pam. She’s usually the waitress we get when we take our grandmother here for lunch, and I don’t think she has ever actually told us her real name. She was perfunctory as usual, and my grandmother noticed that she was perspiring. I could understand why, as she was running all over her section as fast as her orthopedics could carry her. When it came time to deal with the tip, my sister confused my grandmother by leaving it on my grandmother’s credit card. This was confusing because usually, when one pays with a credit card at this establishment, the person you pay will give you the cash for the waitress out of the drawer. It was a new girl at the register, so she just put the tip on my grandmother’s credit card. This confounded my grandmother for the entire ride home. It seems like a simple concept, as it is how most restaurants work. For the life of her, my grandmother just did not understand that the tip could be taken out of the card. Even though Joanna wrote in the tip amount on her copy of the receipt, my grandmother was under, for some reason or another, the impression that she had douped the waitress out of a tip. Joanna even told the waitress that her tip was on the credit card, (Pam even winked and gave m sister finger pistols to signal her understanding) and my grandmother was still unconvinced.
I like to think that we got through to her somewhere between our stop at the bank and her home, but probably not.
-Kat
She of course does not take into account how much gas costs, Joanna’s blood pressure, my rage, or anything else a normal person would take into account. For her, we are nothing more than a chauffeur service to her dates with Drs. X, Y, and Z.
This is a woman who used to dress to the nines to travel the world, and now, her big plans include a day in the dentist chair. Is this what happens when you get old? All the things you once feared in life become hobbies? I am pretty certain this isn’t a trait found everywhere, as our dad’s mother used to actually want to do fun things whenever her grandchildren visited her. Alice just doesn’t have that particular gene that would make her go out of her way to please others. If she did, I wouldn’t be spending every single Monday in the goddam dentist’s office.
The one doctor my grandmother should be going to more is the ear doctor. She has a hearing aid, but still can’t hear for shit. My sister and I were driving her home from her dentist today, and while we passed my house, I noticed there was a package on the front stoop, and, being the anal sonofabitch I am, asked Joanna to turn around so that I could put it in the house. For some reason, any change of direction startles the elderly, and my grandmother wanted to know what was going on:
ALICE: Where are we going?
JOANNA: Back to Kathy’s house to pick up a package.
ALICE: What are we doing?
JOANNA: Going to Kathy’s house. There’s a package by the door and we want to put it in the house.
ALICE: What’s wrong with the door?
JOANNA: NOTHING. We are putting the package in the house that’s BY THE DOOR.
ALICE: We’re going to Kathy’s house? Why?
JOANNA: BECAUSE THERE’S A BUNCH OF GUYS MASTURBATING ON THE FRONT LAWN AND WE ARE GOING TO CHECK IT OUT!!!
Grandma stopped asking after that.
After this, we went to the local diner in our town for lunch. It’s obvious that once upon a time, this diner catered to young Pleasantville like couples, but now, the clientele is strictly made up of people who collect social security. Maybe these are the Pleasantville couples left over from the 1950’s, but I think not, as these people don’t look like they were ever young or in love.
The waitresses here are all a little past middle age. They are the type of waitress who call you “honey” or “sweetie” but you would never want to be on their bad side. Our waitress today was Pam. Pam is the name I appointed her because she looks like a Pam. She’s usually the waitress we get when we take our grandmother here for lunch, and I don’t think she has ever actually told us her real name. She was perfunctory as usual, and my grandmother noticed that she was perspiring. I could understand why, as she was running all over her section as fast as her orthopedics could carry her. When it came time to deal with the tip, my sister confused my grandmother by leaving it on my grandmother’s credit card. This was confusing because usually, when one pays with a credit card at this establishment, the person you pay will give you the cash for the waitress out of the drawer. It was a new girl at the register, so she just put the tip on my grandmother’s credit card. This confounded my grandmother for the entire ride home. It seems like a simple concept, as it is how most restaurants work. For the life of her, my grandmother just did not understand that the tip could be taken out of the card. Even though Joanna wrote in the tip amount on her copy of the receipt, my grandmother was under, for some reason or another, the impression that she had douped the waitress out of a tip. Joanna even told the waitress that her tip was on the credit card, (Pam even winked and gave m sister finger pistols to signal her understanding) and my grandmother was still unconvinced.
I like to think that we got through to her somewhere between our stop at the bank and her home, but probably not.
-Kat
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Monday
Last Monday, we took Grandma to what I am hoping and praying is her last dentist appointment for a very long time. Once we were there, I found a handicap parking space very close to the building, since there was a bus blocking the driveway, as usual. I was very happy with my spot, but my smile quickly turned into a frown when I saw the handicap ramp closes to us was blocked off by construction tape. The other ramp was on the other side of the bus that was blocking the damn drop off. Oh gosh, I really sound crazy. "We will have to walk a little to the other ramp," I say.
"No," Granmda insists, "I can get up on the curb here." The curb was not blocked off by tape, mind you, just the ramp.
"Okay," I say. So, Kathy holds Grandma's walker steady on the curb while I lift her up.
"Oh, no, no! You can't do that over there! There is construction going on!" A female security guard yells over to us. At this point I am holding Grandma in the air.
"Can we please just finish what we started over here?" I ask.
"Well. . . okay," she says, "but there is another ramp over here, you coulda just dropped her off at."
I don't have the energy to argue with her, that there was a bus blocking the drop off. As we walk up a second ramp to the building, some really douchy guys, probably in their forties who happen to be standing around, offer, "Yeah, you know there is a ramp on the other side."
Oh really, I want to say, that's great, but I don't give a shit about the ramp on the other side right now. I am using THIS handicap ramp! I would like to shove my grandmother's walker up your ass though.
Once we get up to the dentist's office, I see Dr. L talking to his receptionist behind the desk. "You are the devil!" I say to him, but probably not loud enough for him to hear me. Grandma is called in and he says with a big smile, "I told you you'd be back." At this I almost melt with disgust.
"Well, don't tell here she'll be back this time," I suggest as Grandma is taken to the back. The appointment doesn't take very long, which I am very happy about. We exit the building through the non-construction side, and decide to go to lunch. Grandma usually likes to take us to lunch after her appointments which is very nice of her. I used to find it very aggravating taking her in and out of the car, and the restaurant, but I have calmed down a lot, and am actually quite patient now. I think it is good for Grandma to get out, otherwise she would be like one of those shut-ins who just stare at the wall and lick their blankets. Actually, for her apparent lack of mobility, Grandma does get out a lot and is very savvy. My husband and I drove into Pittsburgh recently, and on Fith Avenue, a main road, there was this rehabilitation/nursing home. It was later at night and the windows were open in the front. All we could see were these old people just kind of slumped over in their wheel chairs staring into space. It was really sad, but I felt a kind of relief that Grandma is not like that. Sometimes a lot of times she can be aggravating and demanding and self centered and needy, but she is with it, and she does like to get out, which can be a blessing and a curse. I mean when she doesn't want to go out, we all get aggravated and say, "See this is why you have trouble walking, if you don't use it, you're going to lose it!" But then when she does want to get out, it's like "Oh why are you so slow? Wouldn't it be easier if we just bring you lunch to your apartment?" It's hard to have your mind going in so many different directions, so I have decided to take the stance, sometimes reluctantly that it is better to have Grandma get out than stay in, with the exception of grocery shopping, because that is just ridiculous, like beyond. Anyway, for lunch we decide to go to the diner in our town, which is a place we go to a lot. They have mostly older patrons, so they know how to treat the elderly. Grandma seems to be preoccupied from the get-go by the limited amount of wait staff.
"Our waitress is the only one here," she says.
"She's the only one in our section," I answer, "they all have different sections."
"She's not taking her time." Grandma comments.
"Well it's fast paced here," I answer, "she has to move quickly."
"What I mean to say is, she's perspiring." Grandma whispers. And then surveying the crowd, she whispers, "It's all old people here."
JoJo
"No," Granmda insists, "I can get up on the curb here." The curb was not blocked off by tape, mind you, just the ramp.
"Okay," I say. So, Kathy holds Grandma's walker steady on the curb while I lift her up.
"Oh, no, no! You can't do that over there! There is construction going on!" A female security guard yells over to us. At this point I am holding Grandma in the air.
"Can we please just finish what we started over here?" I ask.
"Well. . . okay," she says, "but there is another ramp over here, you coulda just dropped her off at."
I don't have the energy to argue with her, that there was a bus blocking the drop off. As we walk up a second ramp to the building, some really douchy guys, probably in their forties who happen to be standing around, offer, "Yeah, you know there is a ramp on the other side."
Oh really, I want to say, that's great, but I don't give a shit about the ramp on the other side right now. I am using THIS handicap ramp! I would like to shove my grandmother's walker up your ass though.
Once we get up to the dentist's office, I see Dr. L talking to his receptionist behind the desk. "You are the devil!" I say to him, but probably not loud enough for him to hear me. Grandma is called in and he says with a big smile, "I told you you'd be back." At this I almost melt with disgust.
"Well, don't tell here she'll be back this time," I suggest as Grandma is taken to the back. The appointment doesn't take very long, which I am very happy about. We exit the building through the non-construction side, and decide to go to lunch. Grandma usually likes to take us to lunch after her appointments which is very nice of her. I used to find it very aggravating taking her in and out of the car, and the restaurant, but I have calmed down a lot, and am actually quite patient now. I think it is good for Grandma to get out, otherwise she would be like one of those shut-ins who just stare at the wall and lick their blankets. Actually, for her apparent lack of mobility, Grandma does get out a lot and is very savvy. My husband and I drove into Pittsburgh recently, and on Fith Avenue, a main road, there was this rehabilitation/nursing home. It was later at night and the windows were open in the front. All we could see were these old people just kind of slumped over in their wheel chairs staring into space. It was really sad, but I felt a kind of relief that Grandma is not like that. Sometimes a lot of times she can be aggravating and demanding and self centered and needy, but she is with it, and she does like to get out, which can be a blessing and a curse. I mean when she doesn't want to go out, we all get aggravated and say, "See this is why you have trouble walking, if you don't use it, you're going to lose it!" But then when she does want to get out, it's like "Oh why are you so slow? Wouldn't it be easier if we just bring you lunch to your apartment?" It's hard to have your mind going in so many different directions, so I have decided to take the stance, sometimes reluctantly that it is better to have Grandma get out than stay in, with the exception of grocery shopping, because that is just ridiculous, like beyond. Anyway, for lunch we decide to go to the diner in our town, which is a place we go to a lot. They have mostly older patrons, so they know how to treat the elderly. Grandma seems to be preoccupied from the get-go by the limited amount of wait staff.
"Our waitress is the only one here," she says.
"She's the only one in our section," I answer, "they all have different sections."
"She's not taking her time." Grandma comments.
"Well it's fast paced here," I answer, "she has to move quickly."
"What I mean to say is, she's perspiring." Grandma whispers. And then surveying the crowd, she whispers, "It's all old people here."
JoJo
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Tooth Hurts
Okay, so I realize that I am talking about taking Grandma to the dentist a lot, but that's because it seems to be all that we are doing lately. A few months ago, with Grandma's top dentures, we were in the same situation, and I swore I would never do that to myself again. Going to the dentist every week for a month has not been fun. Grandma's denist, "Dr." L. the L stands for LOSER!!!! is a close second to Mengele when it comes to sadistic medicine men. I though last week would be the last appointment for a while, but no! Before Grandma left, he told her "Even though the dentures feel better now, I wouldn't be surprised if you have to make another appointment." Son of a bitch! Grandma hears that and of course she is going to make another appointment, it's in her head that she should, and she is not going to miss out on a doctor's appointment. Even though she told me her dentures felt 1000 times better. If something feels 1000 times better, why would you need it adjusted? Well, Grandma called me today to ask me when I would be free to take her to the dentist next week to adjust her dentures, because they were (surprise, surprise) bothering her. What kind of asshole professional would anticipate problems with his work? Listen, I understand that there might need to be some tweaks made when dealing with dentures, I shouldn't understand this, but unfortunately, I do. It just seems like going back every week for a month is a little outrageous, and if we do have to go back that many times, at least have it be somewhere more convenient. Grandma tried going to our dentist a couple times, who is right up the street, but insisted she didn't feel as comfortable with her as she did with Dr. L. I asked her why? Because she went to our dentist for the same issue with her dentures, but got all upset when they had to be adjusted, and she only went twice. There are just so many things that get me upset about this. First of all, Grandma seems to think that any day I do not have school is fair game to take her to the dentist or any other appointment for that matter. I have an internship I like to be able to go to, plus I am looking for a part time job to help out with our finances. Grandma does give me and Kathy 20 dollars each time we take her somewhere, which is generous and she doesn't have to do that, but then sometimes I feel like, if I were a caretaker, or chauffeur I would be making way more. I know that sounds selfish, but it's just really draining, and I just don't think Grandma appreciates how inconvenient and stressful bringing her to the dentist is. She says, "Oh, you think I like going there?" when we complain about it, but if that's how she feels, why isn't she more proactive to change? They have some weird bond, where neither one of them wants to let the other one go. He probably wears her teeth he pulled on a necklace. I am just so aggravated with this situation, and I pray to God this is the last time we have to go to Dr. L for a very long time.
JoJo
JoJo
Thursday, October 13, 2011
"Just when I think I'm out..."
Today, on my way to class, I got call from my grandmother. As I don't like to talk and drive, I let the voicemail pick up. Listening to the voicemail in the school parking lot, I became slowly enraged. All she usually says in her messages, is "It's Grandma, call me when you get a chance." This usually means, It's Grandma, I have a lot of shit I want you to do." I have told my grandmother countless times my class schedule. She never remembers. It isn't that she has alzheimers or dimentia, like many elderly, it's that she does not care enough to remember. She is really just too busy thinking about her possible ailments and doctors' appointments.
"You called?" I say, returning her call.
"Oh yes," she said, "now the dentist, he gave you his cell phone number to call him, if I suffer any discomfort from my dentures?"
"Yes," I answer in aggravation.
"Well, I'll need you to call him on his cell phone to schedule an appointment for me to get them adjusted."
It's just like really? Really? I was so excited to be done with this round of torture only to have it prolonged. The sadistic dentist had given ME his
cell phone number because Grandma was lying in the dentist's chair. I quickly put it in a pocket in her purse. He gave it to me in case Grandma had any problem over the WEEKEND, not just any old time, and I certainly did not want to be the one to call this guy on his cell phone. I have already seen him more times in the past month than I would care to in a decade. I don't think we need to be that close.
"Why don't YOU call the office?" I suggest. "That's what you are supposed to do."
Apparently she did, because we have what has become our standing appointment scheduled for next week. I can't wait.
JoJo
"You called?" I say, returning her call.
"Oh yes," she said, "now the dentist, he gave you his cell phone number to call him, if I suffer any discomfort from my dentures?"
"Yes," I answer in aggravation.
"Well, I'll need you to call him on his cell phone to schedule an appointment for me to get them adjusted."
It's just like really? Really? I was so excited to be done with this round of torture only to have it prolonged. The sadistic dentist had given ME his
cell phone number because Grandma was lying in the dentist's chair. I quickly put it in a pocket in her purse. He gave it to me in case Grandma had any problem over the WEEKEND, not just any old time, and I certainly did not want to be the one to call this guy on his cell phone. I have already seen him more times in the past month than I would care to in a decade. I don't think we need to be that close.
"Why don't YOU call the office?" I suggest. "That's what you are supposed to do."
Apparently she did, because we have what has become our standing appointment scheduled for next week. I can't wait.
JoJo
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
In"dentured" Servants
Today, Kathy and I took Grandma to her dentist appointment. This was her final appointment for her bottom dentures, Hooray!!! I can't believe the stuff I get excited for now. I parked the car in front of Grandma's apartment building, while Kathy ran up to collect Grandma. While waiting, I noticed another elderly woman walking out of the building with her walker, staring at me. I tried not to look at her and hoped she would just go away, but she kept staring. I realized, I was blocking a ramp,so I rolled down my window, and sweetly, too sweetly really, asked, "Do you need me to move?"
The old bag answered in a very condescending tone, "Uh-huh, yes, I do. I need to get by" This made me instantly regret being so sweet to her. I pulled back, clearing the ramp, and then, just as I was contemplating pulling up as she crossed in front of me, just to give her a little tap, she said "Thank you sweetie," in a very sincere tone. This is why the elderly suck. You can't trust them, because they change on a dime. I can be having a very nice conversation with my grandma about baseball or a book. I'll think I am such a bitch, how can I get aggravated with my grandma, she really is so sweet. But as soon as she feels like I am making her walk too fast, or I buy the wrong wipes (???) she completely loses her shit and turns into a different person.
Once we got to the dentist, Grandma was taken to the back by one of the hygienists. Said hygienist returned shortly after to hand me Grandma's teeth. "These are her old ones," she said.
"Oh, Thank you," I replied sarcastically. This just seems like too much information to have about my grandma, holding her teeth in my hands. On an unrelated note it has come to the attention of both Kathy and myself that everytime we go the dentist's office with Grandma, "Hey Soul Sister" by Train is playing. Just an observation.
To cap off the visit, I am asked by Grandma's dentist "to come on back and take a look at what they did to my grandma." I feel like protesting immediately. "I don't need to see it, really, I'm sure it's great."
"We extracted two teeth," he says excitedly, "and then we put this bottom piece in." Grandma's mouth is opened as he demonstrates how to take it out and put it back in.
Why the fuck are you showing me this? I desperately want to ask. I'm not going to be reaching in and taking my grandmother's dentures out. You don't think I do that, right? That just seems kind of weird. And then he claims that my grandmother is very "stoic, and would never complain if the dentures were bothering her, but she needs to call him if there is any problem." He must have her confused with someone else, or she must put on one hell of an act for him. My grandma is a lot of things, but I would never describe her as stoic. I mean, Anne Frank is stoic, Gandhi is stoic.
Grandma, not so stoic.
JoJO
The old bag answered in a very condescending tone, "Uh-huh, yes, I do. I need to get by" This made me instantly regret being so sweet to her. I pulled back, clearing the ramp, and then, just as I was contemplating pulling up as she crossed in front of me, just to give her a little tap, she said "Thank you sweetie," in a very sincere tone. This is why the elderly suck. You can't trust them, because they change on a dime. I can be having a very nice conversation with my grandma about baseball or a book. I'll think I am such a bitch, how can I get aggravated with my grandma, she really is so sweet. But as soon as she feels like I am making her walk too fast, or I buy the wrong wipes (???) she completely loses her shit and turns into a different person.
Once we got to the dentist, Grandma was taken to the back by one of the hygienists. Said hygienist returned shortly after to hand me Grandma's teeth. "These are her old ones," she said.
"Oh, Thank you," I replied sarcastically. This just seems like too much information to have about my grandma, holding her teeth in my hands. On an unrelated note it has come to the attention of both Kathy and myself that everytime we go the dentist's office with Grandma, "Hey Soul Sister" by Train is playing. Just an observation.
To cap off the visit, I am asked by Grandma's dentist "to come on back and take a look at what they did to my grandma." I feel like protesting immediately. "I don't need to see it, really, I'm sure it's great."
"We extracted two teeth," he says excitedly, "and then we put this bottom piece in." Grandma's mouth is opened as he demonstrates how to take it out and put it back in.
Why the fuck are you showing me this? I desperately want to ask. I'm not going to be reaching in and taking my grandmother's dentures out. You don't think I do that, right? That just seems kind of weird. And then he claims that my grandmother is very "stoic, and would never complain if the dentures were bothering her, but she needs to call him if there is any problem." He must have her confused with someone else, or she must put on one hell of an act for him. My grandma is a lot of things, but I would never describe her as stoic. I mean, Anne Frank is stoic, Gandhi is stoic.
Grandma, not so stoic.
JoJO
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