moltres:

overhearing a conversation between strangers in which they’re saying something completely wrong and you really feel like correcting them

rachface22:

I hate it. I think I’ve lost my grandma to it finally after a severe turn in her condition on Sunday. Yes, Mother’s Day.

Last night, between the yelling and the scrubbing of feces off nearly every surface of her bathroom, I realized that this is no longer my grandma. The only grandma I have is no longer who I know loves me and used to care for me. I understand that this isn’t who my grandma is; this is the disease that’s taken hold of her, but while it’s a comfort, it doesn’t make it any less hard to see and experience.

My cousins, who live an hour away and who are my age with the same capabilities to care for her as I do, won’t have these memories of our grandma. They’ll remember her when she was able to show that she loved them. They won’t have to hear her yelling obscenities at them for making her wear adult diapers because she’s seemingly lost all ability to control herself. Or crying that she wants to kill herself and not want to live anymore when she’s told that she can’t do the things she was once able to.

It’s something that really resonates with a person, to hear their caring, loving, selfless grandma who you think would want to be there for their grandchildren’s major life events like graduations and marriages say that she wants to take all of her pain pills and end her life.

It’s the disease. This monster is not my grandma. I miss her, even though she sits in the same living room as I do. I miss her, even though she sleeps in the room next to mine.

Through all of this, I have such a bigger appreciation for my grandpa, who was taken from me and my family on September 1st. He was a sickly man with a bad heart, yet he was able to deal with all that my grandma had to dish out plus his own conditions. I don’t know how you did this, Grandpa. I understand why you were the way you were, always grumpy or sometimes just plain mean. This is a lot for a healthy person to handle, let alone one who had their own issues to battle. I know I’ll see you again someday, but I think you should know now that…I get it now.

I’m sorry Rachel. My grandma is in the same situation. She used to be the most vibrant and happy person. When I was little I wanted to grow up to be just like her because she was fearless. At four, I declared that when I grew up, I wanted to be like grandma because she could kill spiders with her bare hands, while I was too afraid to even look at them. She always made it clear just how much she adored her grandchildren and did everything in the world she could for us. 
She is still alive, but all trace of the person I loved is gone, replaced by a monster that hates everything and everyone and doesn’t do a thing to hide that fact. The woman that I knew and loved is essentially dead. The scary part is seeing this other person, this wild, violent monster wearing her skin. 
My grandfather took care of her at their home for as long as he was physically able. But he had to call the police one too many times to help wrestle her off the balcony she was trying to jump from. She was so wild that it took several officers to control this tiny little 5” 95lbs woman. She wasn’t allowed to go back home, and she was placed in a facility with a dedicated wing for people with dementia. My grandfather visited her faithfully every single day for the rest of his life. He would spend at least 4-6 hours a day with her, even though she had no idea who he was. He died in November after breaking a hip returning home from one of his visits. His birthday would have been Monday. 
I can’t imagine the burden of living with a person like that, visiting is hard enough. You are so strong, and so brave. Hang in there.