It's hardest to begin.
Especially since I have nothing specific I wanted to say. If that's a put-off, then I'm sorry I wasted your important three seconds. I did, however want to just say, in general.
I'll start close to home. So: home. A long-time friend in I found ourselves in a position where we decided to buy a duplex, live in one side, and continue renting the other side to the existing tenants. Those tenants were a 92 year old woman and her slightly disabled son. They mostly kept to themselves, as I am prone to keep to my self, and we lived as friendly but distanced neighbors for a year, only talking as I fixed things in their quarters.
A short time ago, the neighbors moved out, very suddenly. A decision had been made by someone and things were arranged and only a brief and vauge hand-written note notified me they were leaving in a week. I didn't see her to ask what was happening. 10 days later, two men came to "clear out" the space, piling everything on the front porch, sometimes in trash bags but mostly not. It was one of these men who informed me that the ultimate reason was Alzheimer's disease. In light of the repetitive nature of all of the conversations between she and I, this was not a shock.
It was however disquieting. Normally, I would tell you that I'm not prone to superstition, 'the creeps', or any constant fear or nervousness from some half-concieved external force. I'm reasonably rational about the outside world, and those forces which touch coldly on my nerves are internal ones. This one subject --this one disease-- is an exeption. It makes me nervous, and a kind of superstitious. When people decline to fly or drive without having any normal, rational reason, it seems to me like maybe the same kind of dim, hindbrain, neurotic discomfort.
I never got to know my paternal grandfather. As I was just becoming old enough to make the kind of rudimentary decisions one must be capable of in order to form a social relationship, grandpa entered a nursing home. His Alzheimer's was just too bad for his (girlfriend? Wife? I can't remember if they married) to handle. I remember being with my dad at his house once: a tandem bicycle leaned against the side of the garage; a large hole gaped half-dug and empty; this Grampa guy looked very pale. All my other memories are of very uncomfortable and often frightening visits to the nursing home where he died.
I wish I had known him. My family tells so many interesting things about him. Everyone agrees I look just like him.
Hm.
Anyway, now my maternal grandmother is falling into the same gibbering scary rabbit hole. I was never close to her, either, which one could argue is fortunate in this case, but I would not opine on this at all. My mother and her mother did not get along well. Grandma was incredibly controlling, and bitter. Now... I don't know. My mom is very upset, and I'm proud she's handling it with such grace. I'm very proud of her. I've offered to help if needed, but I've volunteered nothing. This grandmother and I are distant, enough so that only two facets which reach me emotionaly are, firstly, the way my mother is affected, and, secondly, that nervous frigid tingle at the base of my brain.
...
I mean to move to another subject now, but I need a moment to change views.
...
...
Especially since I have nothing specific I wanted to say. If that's a put-off, then I'm sorry I wasted your important three seconds. I did, however want to just say, in general.
I'll start close to home. So: home. A long-time friend in I found ourselves in a position where we decided to buy a duplex, live in one side, and continue renting the other side to the existing tenants. Those tenants were a 92 year old woman and her slightly disabled son. They mostly kept to themselves, as I am prone to keep to my self, and we lived as friendly but distanced neighbors for a year, only talking as I fixed things in their quarters.
A short time ago, the neighbors moved out, very suddenly. A decision had been made by someone and things were arranged and only a brief and vauge hand-written note notified me they were leaving in a week. I didn't see her to ask what was happening. 10 days later, two men came to "clear out" the space, piling everything on the front porch, sometimes in trash bags but mostly not. It was one of these men who informed me that the ultimate reason was Alzheimer's disease. In light of the repetitive nature of all of the conversations between she and I, this was not a shock.
It was however disquieting. Normally, I would tell you that I'm not prone to superstition, 'the creeps', or any constant fear or nervousness from some half-concieved external force. I'm reasonably rational about the outside world, and those forces which touch coldly on my nerves are internal ones. This one subject --this one disease-- is an exeption. It makes me nervous, and a kind of superstitious. When people decline to fly or drive without having any normal, rational reason, it seems to me like maybe the same kind of dim, hindbrain, neurotic discomfort.
I never got to know my paternal grandfather. As I was just becoming old enough to make the kind of rudimentary decisions one must be capable of in order to form a social relationship, grandpa entered a nursing home. His Alzheimer's was just too bad for his (girlfriend? Wife? I can't remember if they married) to handle. I remember being with my dad at his house once: a tandem bicycle leaned against the side of the garage; a large hole gaped half-dug and empty; this Grampa guy looked very pale. All my other memories are of very uncomfortable and often frightening visits to the nursing home where he died.
I wish I had known him. My family tells so many interesting things about him. Everyone agrees I look just like him.
Hm.
Anyway, now my maternal grandmother is falling into the same gibbering scary rabbit hole. I was never close to her, either, which one could argue is fortunate in this case, but I would not opine on this at all. My mother and her mother did not get along well. Grandma was incredibly controlling, and bitter. Now... I don't know. My mom is very upset, and I'm proud she's handling it with such grace. I'm very proud of her. I've offered to help if needed, but I've volunteered nothing. This grandmother and I are distant, enough so that only two facets which reach me emotionaly are, firstly, the way my mother is affected, and, secondly, that nervous frigid tingle at the base of my brain.
...
I mean to move to another subject now, but I need a moment to change views.
...
...