My grandmother is eighty four. She will be eighty five this November. After she retired, she travelled to Europe and North America. Now she can't walk much. She stays at home. Earlier at home, she used to read newspapers, watch cricket, avidly follow soaps on Sun TV and write letters to her friends and relatives. She used to clean the kitchen and cut fruits. She used to keep accounts and order groceries.
Now she can't remember anything. Her attention span is extremely short. She says she can't read because her eyes hurt with the tiny newspaper print. I bought her a magnifying glass. She was very excited to receive it and she has tucked it away at the back of her cupboard. I tried giving her books with larger print but she says she doesn't want to read. Many times, she has asked me to leave her alone.
She spends her days doing nothing. She sits on her bed and stares into space.
Sometimes she asks me who I am. Sometimes she can't tell the difference between me and my sister. Most of the time, she doesn't know whether it is night or day.
She repeatedly performs certain behaviours. Like flushing the toilet again and again. Like changing her clothes again and again. Like rubbing her hands against the bedsheet again and again. Of late, she has been having hallucinations. She describes people, places and events to us as if they really happened. To her, they are real. To us, they are not.
Sometimes, we indulge her by asking her for more details. Sometimes we are flustered and tell her to stop imagining things. It is very hard to reach out to her. She lives in a different space.
It is very hard to watch someone you love lose their mind.
Now she can't remember anything. Her attention span is extremely short. She says she can't read because her eyes hurt with the tiny newspaper print. I bought her a magnifying glass. She was very excited to receive it and she has tucked it away at the back of her cupboard. I tried giving her books with larger print but she says she doesn't want to read. Many times, she has asked me to leave her alone.
She spends her days doing nothing. She sits on her bed and stares into space.
Sometimes she asks me who I am. Sometimes she can't tell the difference between me and my sister. Most of the time, she doesn't know whether it is night or day.
She repeatedly performs certain behaviours. Like flushing the toilet again and again. Like changing her clothes again and again. Like rubbing her hands against the bedsheet again and again. Of late, she has been having hallucinations. She describes people, places and events to us as if they really happened. To her, they are real. To us, they are not.
Sometimes, we indulge her by asking her for more details. Sometimes we are flustered and tell her to stop imagining things. It is very hard to reach out to her. She lives in a different space.
It is very hard to watch someone you love lose their mind.