Minute to Win It with Grandma

Went to visit my Grandma.  She was excited to see my Mom and me.  And she was reading a sports magazine when we found her.  Among other things, it had an article about next year's Final Four.  They postulated that next year it would be the traditionally good at basketball schools, including MSU, which was on the cover.  (They were also big fans of North Carolina.)  I read bits and pieces of the article after she abandoned it, including anything on MSU and Butler.  Paul, Jimmy, Nate and Danny talk sports a lot, and I always feel lame for not knowing as much as they do.  (Though I honestly don't know if anyone knows as much as Danny does.)  So I try to keep up with the basics. 

Grandma wanted to watch this show called Minute to Win It, which I've never seen before.  I have to say, it's not really my kind of show.  I tend not to watch game shows, and when I do, the ones I like are trivia games, which is why Paul and I once had a standing Jeopardy watching date on Mondays.  (I still watch it occasionally, and I like to play along, because blurting out stuff and using my brain are both my cups of tea.) 
Anyway, the show is mostly silly and strange things, involving household items, like stacking cups in a certain way or throwing ping pong balls.  I wasn't really impressed, but I feel like the stuff on the show would make fun games to play with friends at a party.  Possibly they'd be even more fun with alcohol. 
The show had a young male teacher and an older Mom, and they were pretty cute together.  Then the next contestants were an older Dad (who looked weirdly German) and a cheerleader for some Atlanta team.  The cheerleader reminded me vaguely of Amanda.  The guy was kind of creepy.  A lot of the energy felt false and contrived and there was something about most of the contestants that mostly made me think they just wanted to get on tv. 

Techno Logic

I was in the car with my Mom tonight, which happens to have one of those satellite radios.  I got onto a techno station and she was like "Oh, I really like this."
Really? I thought.  I mean, I like most techno, but my Mom is not really the type.  Also, she's really old. 
But after thinking about it for a while, it does make some sense.  My Mom really likes Earth, Wind and Fire, and funk in general, and techno has lots of funk influences.  So I guess it does make sense, though I suspect it's the sort of thing I could tell people and they would be surprised.  Kind of like my Dad's love of My Sweet Sixteen.  It doesn't make sense, until you remember how much he likes to hate on ungrateful children.  Which is probably related to at least one of the many reasons we don't get on. 

Last Night's Wit

Last night, my Mom had some friends over for a craft marathon.  My Mom loves making stuff like that. 
I'm not a huge fan of all my Mom's friends, but a lot of them seem to think I'm hilarious.
They were discussing my Mom's boss, Cherrie, who I hate.  Among other things, Cherrie likes to tell people who aren't Pentecostals that they're going to hell.  Obviously, as someone who believes in religious tolerance, I have little patience for this kind of stuff. 
Cherrie's what I like to call a Pharisee, one of those Christians that thinks that she somehow is better than others because of her religion.  (The name is a reference to a parable of Jesus covered in Luke 18:9-14).  Wrong.  She just likes to use religion to justify her own behavior. 
Anyway, Elizabeth (one of my Mom's friends) and my Mom were discussing Cherrie, and my Mom refrained from saying anything bad. 
"You know," I said "It's okay in this household to call Cherrie a selfish bitch.  It's the truth."
"You go girl!" Elizabeth said.  Yeah yeah. 
Later on in the evening, my Mom asked me if I had a zip drive she could borrow.  "Sorry," I said.
"You lost my purple zip drive."
"I didn't lose it.  I just don't know where it is." 
Elizabeth thought this was hilarious.
In truth, I'm almost certain my zip drives are in a particular backpack.  If not, they're buried with a bunch of my other college stuff. 

La Vida Loca

Just spoke to my Mom.  She wants me to babysit my Grandma tomorrow and maybe Friday.  I said I'd do it. 
Although none of this is my Grandma's or Mom's fault, I'm feeling a little bitter about it today.  Seems like all my peers get to have fun and I'm stuck being responsible and adult.  Uh-huh, that's me, living la vida loca. 
And then I feel guilty about thinking that, because my Grandma really does need people around these days to make sure she eats, takes her medicine, etc.  And it really isn't that hard to watch her.
I'm probably going to have to do more of this as the summer goes on, because my sister is taking at least two classes this summer and is going to be too busy to help out much.
Part of me wishes it was a few summers back, when I was off, having adventures. 

This Morning

I slept in today. Sleeping in at home is usually a bad idea. For whatever reason, my Mom looks down on sleeping in. I'm not sure why exactly, given that I don't have anywhere in particular to be today. But if she was home, she would taunt me about it, or, if she was in an especially bad mood, she'd pick a fight with me over it.
Which is why I was so pleased that she isn't home today. I can sleep in without drama.
Getting up was another matter. I went down to the kitchen, where my sister was eating. I scavenged around a bit. There's nothing to eat here. I should be more specific: there's nothing to eat here I haven't had twelve times already this week or isn't bad for me. So I'm often left wondering what I should eat. Skipping meals is bad for you, but I often find, despite my hunger, that there's nothing here I want to eat, and end up not eating. I go for the not eating.
Then I'm back up in my room, turning the computer on. And there's no internet. There's internet for everyone else in the house, but not me and my computer Stella. No. This would be too easy. I mess around with it for a minute. Nothing.
I just got a new device a few days ago that was suppose to make it so I could get internet easier. It was working perfectly for the last few days. My Dad asked how it was last night at dinner. "Great," I said. Should have knocked on wood. I went to go get my Dad and asked him to look at it, since if anything should happen to Stella when I'm using it, I'm in trouble. If anyone else messes it up, it's the universe's fault.
So I'm back downstairs in the kitchen, again, rummaging, looking for something to eat. Still nothing. I consider one of my usual techniques for not being hungry while at home: drinking water. It's the sort of terrible thing an anorexic does, but it gives me the brief allusion that I'm full. I go with it. As I'm opening the fridge, one of the magnets falls off the door and breaks.
That's it. It's official: today is crappy. I've been up for a whole nine minutes and I've gotten frustrated by three things already. Now you wonder why I hate being at home? My minimum for frustration at school is usually three hours.
My Dad comes down and asks if he can reboot the computer. Seriously? I could have done that. I thought about doing that, but considering how bad it is for Stella, I decided against it, because there must be some other way to fix the problem. "Don't you think it's bad that it has to be rebooted?" I ask him.
"Look, there's no other way to fix it. If you have a suggestion, I'd love to hear it."
Woha. That was uncalled for. I asked a question, one that, given the circumstances, is valid. Rebooting is not good for a computer. You should do it only in extreme circumstances. Like, you know, when there is no other way to fix something.
This is one of the things I really struggle with when it comes to my Dad. He doesn't take criticism at all, to the point where it's impossible to have a conversation with him, even a calm one, over a problem. As bad as I am with criticism, I am not nearly this bad. This is one of the ways I hope I am never like my Father. If you have a problem with him, you're stuck, because he'll never listen to you. He'll never consider that you might have feelings and that he is (unintentionally or not) stepping all over them.
He goes back upstairs to mess around with the computer, but has no luck with it, and gives up after ten minutes
Oh, and now I'm hungry again. Perfect.

The Puzzle Lady

Went to visit my Grandma today to babysit. My Mom has been spending all her free time with her, which means that I'm on duty when my Mom is working.
My Grandma is often referred to at her nursing home as "The Puzzle Lady." Like most nursing homes, there is a puzzle always sitting out on a particular table. My Grandma likes to sit there and, in addition to putting the puzzle together, people watch.
My Grandma's people watching is one of the many ways that I find myself thinking about how similiar the two of us are. I love people watching. Never feel bad about leaving me alone in a public place with lots of people, like say, the caf at school. I like watching people. They're fascinating.
So, for part of today, my Grandma, sister and I worked on the puzzle. Right now, it's a picture of eggs elaborately decorated. Possibly they are suppose to be those fancy Russian eggs that the Romanovs were into as serfs starved. Anyway, I had a decent puzzle day. I put together a fair amount of pieces. Sweet.
There's really not much to do when hanging with my Grandma, but I try to keep myself entertained. I played some solitare. Read a little. Texted with my friends Philip and Ashley. Talked to my Uncle on the phone. Watched Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Laid down for a little. Like I said, not much to do.
In a little while, I'm going to walk my Grandma down to dinner. I was hoping to have an exciting Friday night planned, but it looks like I've got to be an adult and get some stuff together for a possible job. Bah.

Saint of Miracles

We went today to move my Grandma out of rehab back to her apartment. Once again, she totally forgot that she was moving or that we'd visited her everyday for the past three days. Mostly, my Mom went around haranguing the staff about this and that (my Grandma's walker, the lost clothes, etc.) and I packed my Grandma's stuff up and put it in the car. We said goodbye and finally left.

People at the nursing home where my Grandma lives were surprisingly nice. As I was bringing the bags into her apartment, the woman who lives across the hallway asked if she was back. "She's moving back into today," I answered.

When my Grandma wheeled into the lobby, a bunch of people greeted her. I actually heard one of the staff gush that she was back. Geez, maybe my Grandma is more popular than I realized.

Turns out Aaron is moving on and getting a new job. Aaron is the staff member that has always taken the most interest in her, asking after her, making sure she's okay. What a loss.

While I was unpacking and whatnot, my Mom met with Tracy and her workers. Tracy is one of my Mom's older friends. She recently started a home care business, which means she oversees people to look after the elderly. My Mom got a discount through her.

I think Tracy's okay. I've seen her rip people out a fair few times, and once you see that, you learn not to cross people. Not that I ever have. I was a little surprised by her enthusiasm to see me. She was so proud of me for graduating from college. She gave me a hug.

I guess people's excitement surprises me for a whole host of reasons, but mostly because it was never a question I was going to graduate. For others I'm sure this isn't true, but I was clearly going to make it out of MSU. I worried occasionally for my GPA, but I was indeed going to graduate.

As the women talked about my Grandma's needs, she interrupted a lot. Which I think is one of her most annoying habits. You'll be trying to have a conversation about her health with a doctor, and she she needs to talk about a picture of a dog hanging on the wall. She did the same thing today.

Whenever I'm at my Grandma's place, I have a whole list of things to do. Today, because we were moving back in, I had even more to do. I put everything I could away. I hung up her clothes. I went through her refrigerator, throwing away all the things that had expired. My Grandma's been out of the apartment since March, so all her yogurts were bad, and surprisingly, everything else was fine. My Grandma also drinks a lot of Propel, but she's too weak to open the bottles by herself, so I open them and then reseal them for her. I made ice for her. And then I watered her plants. And checked her mail.

As I was going through her fridge, I thought about a few years back, when she was living in a house. Every week in the summer I would go to her house and go through her fridge, which always had food with mold in it. I'd throw it away, knowing if I didn't she'd eat it.

After Tracy and co left, my Grandma hung out with some of her friends. A big group of them sat eating cake and having coffee. One of the women mentioned that she was a big Saint Anthony fan. "Me too," my Grandma said.

I think about Saint Anthony a lot when I think of my Grandma, probably because my work is in saints. I don't understand why my Grandma went with him as her patron saint, and not some of the other saints that I think she would naturally fall to.

Mother's Day at Rehab

They said I had to go to rehab, and I said no, no no...
These were probably not the lyrics I should have been thinking about as I walked in to the rehab facility, but then again, my Grandma does love to tell people no.
My Grandma got sick sometime in late March. I say sometime because my family lied to me about what was going on with her. I only found out because they couldn't come up with a better excuse not to come see me give several readings and lectures that were suppose to be the culmination of years of work as an undergraduate.
Every semester I was at MSU, she managed to get sick. You would think, eighth time over, that I would stop getting upset about it, but I always manage to. Even when I think "oh, I seem fine," something happens that proves to me I'm clearly not okay. Last semester, I was at an open mic night and a young woman played a song she wrote for her Grandmother, and I ended up sobbing. Luckily, no one took notice.
My Grandma was really happy to see us. She was smiling and making silly faces as I tried to take pictures of her. I really want a picture of her hands. I think her hands, with their large veins, are fascinating. I realize other people hate the veiny look, but I think it's beautiful, like an abstract painting.

We mostly spent a little time having ice cream and cake to celebrate Mother's Day. My Grandma had a piece of chocolate cake with a pink petal on top of it. She attempted to eat around it, which eventually caused the cake to tip over from its own weight. We had a nice conversation as a family.
A man with a ukele was in the cafeteria, playing Hank Williams and Neil Diamond songs. He was an excellent musician, though the kind of singer that so many people hate. As he was working though the Carter Family's "Let the Circle Be Unbroken," I thought about how much I wish I would magically summon a singer-songwriter I like in (Double Saginaw Familiarity, Spitzerspace Telescope, Priscilla Ahn, Robert Francis, Liz Phair...) rather than listen to him. I'm bored to tears with "good chorale" singing I hear so frequently, but I don't like the dying cat aesthetic either. My Grandma screwed up her face and said "at least he's trying." Later, she complained about him to a nurse.
We cleaned her up, because the nurses never take as good of care of her as they should. Her skin is really dry now and peeling off. I'm wondering if we should get some scrub that they sell at Bath and Body Works.
While I was waiting, I read a science book and texted Paul. My Grandma has a roommate at rehab, and she had on the Tigers game and then a reality show on remodeling on, both really loudly. My Grandma showed me her rosary and told me that my Grandfather gave it to her. She's seems to have forgotten that he died almost seven years ago.
The worst part was saying goodbye. She started crying and asked why she couldn't come home with us. I tried to explain that she had to be there to get better, but logical answers don't really work well with her.
She moves back to her place on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going to be going to see her everyday. Then on Wednesday, I'll be helping move her back to her apartment. I might be staying with her Friday since my Mom has to work. So, basically, expect a lot of updates about her over the next few days and in general. When I'm back at home, my family spends a lot of time taking care of her.