Alzheimer's sucks beans

My Gramma used to be the best Gramma in the world. When I was a kid, I loved going to her house because she had an enclosed front porch full of old toys and old furniture and lots of cousins to play with. There was almost always something yummy on the stove top or in the oven. She's not Italian by birth, but assimilated herself by marriage as quickly as she could. Holidays at her house included tables spilling into the living room to accommodate 30+ loud and laughing relatives. Her meatballs and braciole--oh, makes me want to reminisce with a Sicilian accent. (Inconthievable!!)(Sorry. *ahem*)

Even as recently as three years ago, we baked cookies and pitzels together in my mom's kitchen, talking about genealogy and great-great-great-great aunts and uncles. She was a wonderful great-Gramma to my kids.

Now, that Gramma is gone. No, she's still alive. She's just a mean, angry, resentful person, her former self eaten away by Alzheimer's and dementia. She lives full-time with my mom, about ten miles away. (You can read more about the accident that seemed to speed up her decline in this post.)

Now, she gripes at my kids for silly stuff (she once barked at younger child to 'Quit dancing! Do you behave like that at home?', threw a fit because older child stood at the counter to nibble some cheese and crackers). She makes up hateful things about me and my older child to tell her caregivers, sometimes even when I'm in the same room! She tells my mom's dog to eat my dog. She squints her eyes and covers her ears with her hands whenever there's a noise she doesn't like (like my voice speaking to my mother). She accuses all of us of stealing her stuff when she can't find something. She especially dislikes my son simply because he's a boy.

We see her every weekend, but it's hard sometimes, especially for my kids, because they don't really remember 'Great-Gramma'. I constantly remind them (and myself) that it's not really her--it's the disease, but that doesn't make visiting any more pleasant. How can we enjoy being with an old woman mean enough to make my teenager cry?

Okay, so what spurred such a depressing post? My mom recently started a blog to catalog the daily struggles and triumphs of my grandmother's Alzheimer's (if you know/remember my grandmother, check out The Butterfly Net). Yesterday I made some custom graphics for the blog, and this morning I found a picture of my grandmother to put up. As I was adjusting the brightness and contrast of the photo and reducing the glare on her glasses in Photoshop, I got to thinking about how she used to be. And it made me sad. It's difficult to hang on to the good memories when our more recent experiences are so...daunting.

In all fairness, I must admit that she's been more mellow in recent weeks. On Thanksgiving day, she didn't gripe even once, not even at my son. It was such a departure from her normal self, that we all noticed and marveled. Let's hope she's still mellow tomorrow...