i was scrolling through blog drafts that i did not publish, and found one that was delightful. had me laughing out loud. not sure why i didn't publish it when i wrote it last year, but it was a nice, completely forgotten memory to rediscover.
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[written in 2012]
when i stopped to see grandma shank last week, she was in a wheelchair in the hallway with a nurse and they were chatting away. the week before she had been walking in the hallway with someone and i could hear her all the way at the opposite end saying,
"well yeah! i thought it was just dandy!"
cracks me up. she is always right there in the action of her unit. really i think it's safe to say she IS the action - everyone else is usually quietly slumped over in the circle of recliners.
so they were getting her ready for a walk because she wanted to go outside. i thought that a wheelchair walk would be lovely, because watching her walk makes me really nervous and i am always terrified she is going to fall.
the nurse said i could take her outside by myself and that also made me nervous and i said,
"oh. okay. um, are there any rules?"
she laughed at me (as she should have) and said nope, probably just keep her sitting.
i don't know why i am like this, but i really like step by step instructions.
my mom cooks without recipes and it blows my mind. i suppose everyone
who is a good cook does this, because a long time ago i asked grandma
for a recipe for her angel food cake and she didn't know it. or any of
her other recipes. so i try not to think about how i will never get to
eat her deliciousness again, just like i try not to think about how my
favorite restaurants in the world are a thousand dollar fight away in
maui.
i also wanted to ask what if she jumps up and tries to run away when we get outside? REALLY CHELSEA? every so often i have a thought so absurd that it is absurd enough to make me realize how crazy my fears are. and that makes me think about how to God 100% of my fears must sound 100% ridiculous.
i started wheeling grandma down the hall and she was chatting away as usual, oh i love her so much. but then she started yelling,
"oh there she is. lizzie! lizzie!" i have no way of knowing if the old woman not responding AT ALL really is lizzie and just can't hear or see, or if grandma is confused, so i kindof just keep wheeling at a creeper pace.
our walk was basically a social outing, because everyone knows grandma and stops to chat. by the time we made it downstairs to the doors to go out, grandma was saying,
"oh we don't want to go outside if it's cold." but i wheeled her forward a few feet closer and asked if she wanted to just feel the temperature and she said,
"oh yeah, yeah the sun's shining. oh it's good for us to get fresh air ..."
so we wheeled around for a bit checking out the gardens until it got too windy and went back in and grandma chatted with the lady who is always sitting by the door.
grandma: "oh i wonder how you decided to live here?"
lady: "i didn't. they sent me here straight from the hospital."
grandma: "oh my, well are you doing better now since you got out?"
lady: (gives an elaborate explanation of all her medical history and how she had a stroke and can no longer walk)
grandma: well, we just keep on smiling though don't we? that's all we can do! and i think as long as we have our health and can get around,we can't really complain.
it was quite an ironic thing to say since the lady just finished saying she can't walk or get around, and grandma was in a wheelchair. i also enjoyed her response to the lady's question of "how long have you been living here now?" "ohh, it'll soon be a year."
she has been there for about six years, i think. i never correct her. the nurses may think i am mildly retarded because i just agree with whatever she says or say "that's great" when she says they get to choose their food for each meal. they don't, and i know that. but someone looked at me vigorously shaking their head back and forth when she said that.
i also like when she talks about the other people there like she doesn't live there too. "oh i bet they like that, that's good for them," she said when the one staff member was playing a toy keyboard for some people in the room to guess the tune.
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grandma always kept in mind that someone else had it worse than her. my dad has talked about his parents being "proud" in a negative sense. that stubborn kind of pride that refuses to admit weakness or ask for help, for instance. people can have unhealthy levels of pride, for sure, but it almost seems like grandma's sense of pride was a good thing. maybe thinking that she wasn't like the old people around her kept her healthy and going strong for a lot longer.
something grandma would say about people all the time that always bothered me was, "he/she comes from a broken family …"
uh, okay grandma, what am i from then? do i have a free pass to give up and screw up my life because i'm from a so-called broken family too? i still hate that phrase - "broken family." i don't think anyone (who is being honest) would like to be told they come from a broken family. just because divorce changes the structure of a family doesn't mean it's not still a family. and every family is made up of imperfect people and has its own set of challenges.
but grandma probably didn't even consider me to be from a broken family, because her own family was perfect to her. certainly her pride and joy, and rightly so. she really saw things from her own eyes, and it seems like that was a good thing.
"the best way to keep our troubles in perspective
is to be aware of others troubles."
[mark driscoll]
