She's still got a few years left in her.
If you can get her out of the house, she's yours.
All 96 Alzheimer's years of her.
She's like a really tall child that can get into everything. This includes the sherry.
Remember when I thought that perhaps having an extra glass would calm her down?
We better stick to letting her gorge on cookies instead.
That 2nd glass of sherry had her screaming down the 'my didn't they do a great job on the carpet' stairs, asking if we'd fed Psycho Kitty repeatedly.
And I mean, repeatedly.
Oh, my favourite part is when she doesn't get a response and slams the door.
It was 9:30 pm. If we hadn't have fed Psycho Kitty by then, we'd have a lot more trouble with the troops on our floor.
Especially The Mrs. She won't let dinner pass by unannounced, and she surely is the only animal in the house that doesn't lie about when she's hungry.
Anyway, enough about the food and the G'ma's screaming about feeding the cat and slamming of doors.
My rule is, if she yells rudely down the 'my didn't they do a great job on the carpet' stairs, that I won't answer.
This is my space.
This is my home.
I will not entertain her passive aggressiveness.
And sure enough it works. She'll pick up the phone to call and ask me a question in a more polite, humane, civilized manner.
Except last night.
I suppose she forgot who she was going to call and nag at, and left the phone off the hook. I could hear the alert screaming from the phone in an echoing manner throughout those hard wood floors up there.
Only, when I got up there, she was pressing buttons on the Lifeline machine saying, "Stop calling me!!!"
Oh, you old fart. If you pressed the button, then you called them.
But the saddest part was when I said, "It's ok G'ma. I'll take care of it," this years past 'with it' old lady replied with the saddest question, "I don't understand what's going on. Do you understand what's going on?"
Sadly, I answered, "Yeah, I understand G'ma."
Poor old thing is absolutely dependent upon us.
It really hit me just how bad she's getting.
However, when I finished telling the little man in the little Lifeline box that G'ma had accidentally pressed their button, that old bird said something that was the perfect end to this comedy routine.
We were walking out of the dining room of telephone chaos, when she looked down at Psycho Kitty's bowl and calmly says, "I see you've fed him."
We fed him.
I told Papi, there will not be any extra sherry given to the old coot anymore. This can't happen again.
My love said, "Well, the extra glass won't killer her."
No mi esposo.
It will kill ME.
when you stop chasing the wrong things, you give the right things a chance to catch you