I just read Rachel's entry about our visit see my Grandmama yesterday.
I had to recompose myself before trying to type again.
Rachel's spot-on, though. Grandmama is ready to go, and I just may start praying to that end. Several times she said "This is not living." And how right she is. Just looking around a place like that nursing home, no one there is really "living." They're just waiting to die. Some of them more cognizant of it than others.
Rachel, if you ever have to put me in a place like that, I will understand. But I would just as soon you put a pillow over my head and hold it there for a few minutes. But, then, that would make you guilty of murder, so we'd best not do that. The "law" doesn't understand that aspect of things.
We saw one lady rolling around in a wheelchair who just wanted to be part of our little "party." She couldn't talk. Well, she could make sounds, but no recognizable words.
Then there was the guy pushing himself around in his wheelchair, using his feet on the floor, whose mouth was hanging open and his tongue hanging out. All he could do was look at us.
There was one little old lady who was walking around with very tiny steps, who had a man move a recliner for her so she could sit in it and look out the windows. She seemed fairly lucid. She seems to have the power to make people move if she wants to sit there, according to my father.
There was another nice lady who really wanted to play dominoes, but there was no one there with which to play, yet.
Don't misunderstand. I am poking fun at no one. Absolutely not. I am simply obeserving the condition of these people. They are not "living." They are lost and lonely, some more than others. One man walked around with a totally abandoned expression on his face. I felt so sorry for him. He looked so alone.
I've always hated nursing homes. As nursing homes go, the one my Grandmama is in is fairly nice. The tv sucks, but the patients probably don't really even notice that. Apparently, they don't even have cable. But it's a hopeless place. Even for one who has eternal hope, like most of the members of my family have. When you've been relegated to a place like that, you know that you are just waiting.
We gave Grandmama a coffee cup for her birthday. I had it made with a picture that I took of Grandmama, Rachel, Stephanie, Mom and Dad when we had Thanksgiving at our house in 2000. I believe it was the following Thanksgiving that began the downward spiral of Grandmama's health. She loved the cup, but wanted my Dad to hold onto it until she "gets settled." I don't know where she thinks she's going.
My heart aches for her. She was always my favorite grandparent.
Father, please take her Home. She's miserable.