My Grandpa is not doing well, as Finding Reverie’s post the other day indicated. My Grandma had an accident at the hospital today as well… And while she was cleared of any major injury (though she is apparently looking pretty beat up), all these events plus my having started to work with Geriatrics have started to make me consider my grandparent’s and ultimately my own mortality.
I like to think if I am a little old lady in a Nursing Home someday that I will be cute, pleasant, and above all: continent… and hopefully one that staff prefer to work with… And yet the thought of living in a Nursing Home scares me… Because there are so many out there that are sub-par. I struggle with the thought of becoming a burden on my family and the thought of the possibility of getting stuck in a veritable hell.
My Husband says as long as he lives, I will not end up in a Home. Hopefully, again, I’ll grow old gracefully and be of minimal burden to those around me. I hope to be able to take care of myself for the most part until the end – as my Grandparents have so far been able to do. (They live with my mum, but primarily care for themselves.)
Me and Baby Sis with Grandma at Disney World, me with my Grandparent’s dog – Buffy – and all my sisters with my Grandpa picking strawberries.
My Grandpa always had a crew cut. My entire life he’s had the same hairstyle. As a young child I would climb on his lap and rub the top of his head because I liked the way his spiky, but soft, hair felt underneath my small hand.
My Grandparents always have had their own recliners, side by side with their own side tables filled with their things. My Grandpa had stacks of paperbacks waiting to be read on his. He also almost always had a big glass mug of frosty Iced Sweet Tea. I would climb up on his lap and give him my cutest face as I asked for just one sip. He’d get annoyed because he soon learned my “just one sip” would mean several big gulps as I polished off up to half the mug. I am told, as well, I would help him eat his pickled herring straight from the jar. I *ahem* only vaguely remember this MAYBE occurring… Haha.
In Grandma’s recliner
At some point my Grandpa’s doctor outlawed Sweet Tea for Grandpa… So Grandma stopped making it all together. I still think Grandma’s was always the best.
My Grandparent’s house was where we went every year when we came back to the US. It’s where I lived when I went to school in Frederick and dated Justin and Andre when I was 16. It’s where Grandpa would tinker in his garage – a big two car garage with a workbench are in the back. It’s where I threw myself down the back hill after my Cousin Ben AKA “My Sweet Wesley” tumbled before me shouting “AS YOU WIIIISSSHHHH.” Hahaha. It’s where two of my sisters ran the riding mower into the same huge pine tree a year or so apart. It’s where we swung on the old tire swing many years in a row. It’s where we’d shuck corn and shell shrimp. It’s where we’d sink into the mud when we decided to walk to the playground by the lake.
The Tire Swing (Me and Justin at 16 and then me at 12)
With the cousin Ben…
I was put to work on Grandpa’s mower (there was no harming of pine trees under my watch! LOL)
It’s where I considered “Home” until my grandparent’s sold their house and moved on.
Where on Earth have all the years gone?
Current Google images of their old house… Still looks exactly the same to me
In 2003 – My Grandparents were at my wedding