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Feb. 14th, 2011 07:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urbandruidI don't know how to say this. I've been trying to find the words for it maybe since Christmas, when I knew something was wrong. Or at least since New Years', when I learned what it was.
Around New Years' we found out that Grandpa can't stay in the apartment at the retirement home with Grandma anymore, that he's slipped too far. We started making plans to move him into the Alzheimer's assisted living unit. Had a meeting there with the social worker who runs it, even my aunt and uncle drove down for it. It's a nice place, a very nice place actually, as these things go. I think Grandpa will be safe there, and maybe, someday, he might be happy there. It's the best we can hope for, and I'm so thankful my grandparents have the money to afford this kind of care.
But a part of me hates everything about this. Sure, I knew it was coming, someday, but actually facing it is something else. Especially when Grandpa doesn't want to go. He's still with it enough to understand on some level that he has to go there, to live, and he doesn't want to go. And it breaks my heart. It's breaking everybody's heart.
And tomorrow his room is finally ready. Grandma moved some stuff down last night, nothing heavy I hope, because hell, that's all we need, for her to throw her back out or something. Tomorrow, Mom and my uncle John, and I, are helping them move furniture and whatnot.
I'm dreading it. I'm dreading the reality of it, of moving my grandfather into a place he has to be, and leaving him there. Dreading leaving him behind a door you need a code to get in and out of. I'm afraid he'll be upset, that he'll forget or not understand why he has to stay there, and why we can't. I'm afraid I will lose it and start crying, and he won't understand why. Or, maybe worse, that he will.
And because I can't have just a family crisis, I have my own. I'm a lot better from the cold from hell I've had, but I'm still coughing. Mom is pretty bad with it still. (Mom also has hypothyroidism and pre-diabetes, which we're also trying to cope with.) And me? I'm severely, deeply depressed. I have a C in Behavioral Stats that I'm struggling and maybe going to fail to keep. (I also have a test today that I kinda sorta partway understand the material for.) I'm also sucking at ballet, and too tired/depressed/whatever to practice like I should.
It looks so simple written out there like that. I am profoundly depressed. But those words encompass my whole world, sometimes. The part where I have to struggle to get out of bed. The part where I wonder why the hell I should bother. The part where I drag myself through classes, and homework, hours spent in the library killing time, when sometimes I'm not doing my homework, even though I should, because I just can't. I open the book, pull out my pencil and paper and calculator, and then I just stare at them. Sometimes I take a stab at some problems, sometimes not.
If I can't do the work, I can't pass this class. I try not to think about that too hard.
I have good days, relatively speaking, days when I almost feel normal. I can tell that today's not going to be one of them.
It's going to rain. Probably a lot. And I have to take the bus home. The bus, which has been an hour late far more often than it's been on time this semester. But I have to go. I have a test to take, then an hour of class to try and get through. And hope I understand.
And tomorrow... Mom's taking me to my ballet class at the college, then- I can't even remember if she's going over to the folks' after she drops me off or not. Probably we're not going till I'm out of class. Dunno, I'll ask her I guess. Anyway, I'm dreading that, and then I feel guilty for dreading it.
Oh, and did I forget to mention we're all worried as hell about Grandma, too? Because she's been forgetful and spacey for a while now. Too. She's always been a bit of a flake, but lately it's gotten really bad. We're all hoping she'll be better once she's not Grandpa's 24/7 caretaker anymore. We're hoping. Because if not...
Mom and I joke about a couple's suite at the Alzheimer's unit. But it may actually not be that funny, except in the black humor sort of way that we have. And that scares the hell out of me, too.
Meanwhile, I get to drag myself to school and take my exam, like everything is normal in my life. I don't even know what that word means anymore, and probably wouldn't recognize normal if it bit me.
So, yeah. All my weeks have been hard lately, one way or another, but this one... This one's gonna be really, really hard.
Around New Years' we found out that Grandpa can't stay in the apartment at the retirement home with Grandma anymore, that he's slipped too far. We started making plans to move him into the Alzheimer's assisted living unit. Had a meeting there with the social worker who runs it, even my aunt and uncle drove down for it. It's a nice place, a very nice place actually, as these things go. I think Grandpa will be safe there, and maybe, someday, he might be happy there. It's the best we can hope for, and I'm so thankful my grandparents have the money to afford this kind of care.
But a part of me hates everything about this. Sure, I knew it was coming, someday, but actually facing it is something else. Especially when Grandpa doesn't want to go. He's still with it enough to understand on some level that he has to go there, to live, and he doesn't want to go. And it breaks my heart. It's breaking everybody's heart.
And tomorrow his room is finally ready. Grandma moved some stuff down last night, nothing heavy I hope, because hell, that's all we need, for her to throw her back out or something. Tomorrow, Mom and my uncle John, and I, are helping them move furniture and whatnot.
I'm dreading it. I'm dreading the reality of it, of moving my grandfather into a place he has to be, and leaving him there. Dreading leaving him behind a door you need a code to get in and out of. I'm afraid he'll be upset, that he'll forget or not understand why he has to stay there, and why we can't. I'm afraid I will lose it and start crying, and he won't understand why. Or, maybe worse, that he will.
And because I can't have just a family crisis, I have my own. I'm a lot better from the cold from hell I've had, but I'm still coughing. Mom is pretty bad with it still. (Mom also has hypothyroidism and pre-diabetes, which we're also trying to cope with.) And me? I'm severely, deeply depressed. I have a C in Behavioral Stats that I'm struggling and maybe going to fail to keep. (I also have a test today that I kinda sorta partway understand the material for.) I'm also sucking at ballet, and too tired/depressed/whatever to practice like I should.
It looks so simple written out there like that. I am profoundly depressed. But those words encompass my whole world, sometimes. The part where I have to struggle to get out of bed. The part where I wonder why the hell I should bother. The part where I drag myself through classes, and homework, hours spent in the library killing time, when sometimes I'm not doing my homework, even though I should, because I just can't. I open the book, pull out my pencil and paper and calculator, and then I just stare at them. Sometimes I take a stab at some problems, sometimes not.
If I can't do the work, I can't pass this class. I try not to think about that too hard.
I have good days, relatively speaking, days when I almost feel normal. I can tell that today's not going to be one of them.
It's going to rain. Probably a lot. And I have to take the bus home. The bus, which has been an hour late far more often than it's been on time this semester. But I have to go. I have a test to take, then an hour of class to try and get through. And hope I understand.
And tomorrow... Mom's taking me to my ballet class at the college, then- I can't even remember if she's going over to the folks' after she drops me off or not. Probably we're not going till I'm out of class. Dunno, I'll ask her I guess. Anyway, I'm dreading that, and then I feel guilty for dreading it.
Oh, and did I forget to mention we're all worried as hell about Grandma, too? Because she's been forgetful and spacey for a while now. Too. She's always been a bit of a flake, but lately it's gotten really bad. We're all hoping she'll be better once she's not Grandpa's 24/7 caretaker anymore. We're hoping. Because if not...
Mom and I joke about a couple's suite at the Alzheimer's unit. But it may actually not be that funny, except in the black humor sort of way that we have. And that scares the hell out of me, too.
Meanwhile, I get to drag myself to school and take my exam, like everything is normal in my life. I don't even know what that word means anymore, and probably wouldn't recognize normal if it bit me.
So, yeah. All my weeks have been hard lately, one way or another, but this one... This one's gonna be really, really hard.
