The tale I am about to tell is not going to make anyone feel happy. No, it is not the end of the world, and there are many worse things that could emotionally scar someone, but this one is near the top of the list as far as “what you never want to hear. Ever.”
My 83-year old grandmother lives in a retirement home about a five minutes’ drive from my parents’ house. I have made it a habit to take her out to lunch every year when I’m visiting for Christmas, and it has always been a nice outing, although for the past couple of years Grandma has been suffering more and more from dementia. She’s now extremely forgetful, and my mother (her primary caregiver, at this point) told me that she really has declined over the past six months or so. It has become hard to have a coherent conversation because she can’t find her words, and she loses her train of thought quickly. Regardless, I figured I could take her out to lunch without much worry.
Things started out well. I picked her up, and she was dressed–my mother warned me she might not be, as she can never decide on an outfit-- although I did have to help her pick out a pair of shoes to wear. We left her apartment to head for the car and we only had to backtrack once so she could get lipstick. As we got into the car, she remarked that it was tough being 83, and I replied that she could be 93, and it might be worse. She agreed, and made the funniest comment of the day: “I don’t think you’ll ever make it to 83.” Thanks, Grandma.
We made it to the restaurant, and our waiter, a 20-something surfer-dude started in on the specials, and my grandmother said, loudly, “I can’t understand a word you’re saying! Slow DOWN!” I was a bit embarrassed, but she had a point, and he nicely slowed down. My grandmother then said to him, “Nice teeth.” He left, and I helped her pick out a sandwich.
As expected, our conversation was difficult, at best. I asked her what she had read lately, and she mentioned a book my mother gave her for Christmas. But then she forgot what the book was about. Then, she commented on how warm the table was, and how she’d like to put her head down and take a nap. I chuckled, but she proceeded to actually put her head down, and then she closed her eyes. Strange. Eventually I convinced her to pick her head up.
Grandma’s next comment threw me for a loop, albeit a small one. She said, “Last year, when I was staying with your parents and you visited, I used to wish I could run down the hall and jump into bed with you. Oops. Now I’m embarrassed for saying that.” I didn’t know exactly what to make of her comment, although I told her that that was a nice sentiment, and she didn’t need to be embarrassed. What I didn’t mention was that as her 30-something grandson, I really didn’t want to think of sharing a bed with her.
I changed the subject as quickly as possible, and then our lunch arrived. As we finished eating, I said, “Is there anything else you’d like to do; we could shop, or walk around the town.” This was quite a mistake, in hindsight. I shall forever more remember that I should never let senile octogenarians tell me what they want to do. My grandmother replied, “Well, you could take me home and make love to me.”
Let me repeat (and this is actually hard to type, in a creepy way): My 83-year old grandmother said to me, “Well, you could take me home and make love to me.” My flesh and blood GRANDMOTHER. She said that to me. To my face, without joking (and what a horrible joke it would have been, anyway). I was dumbstruck, but my reaction was to immediately say, in a nice way, “Grandma! You CAN’T say that!” Her reply? “I can’t?” If I changed the subject quickly after her first comment, this time I changed the subject so fast that I’m surprised a mini sonic boom didn’t explode from my mouth moving so quickly. “We could go shopping…what’s your favorite store?”
At this point, my mind was rebelling and really trying to put that most horrible thought out of my head. It was so shocking and terrible that I had a hard time concentrating, and when the waiter brought the bill, I quickly paid and took my grandmother home. I said my goodbyes swiftly, and rushed out of her apartment, still feeling creepy. I think (and desperately hope) that she forgot about her comment, and there is a good chance she did, given her state. I, however, may never get it out of my head. I’ll see how I feel next week, and I might just sign up to see a therapist.
I have rationalized her statement, and of course I chalk it entirely up to her dementia, but she could have said just about anything else and it wouldn’t have been quite so horrible. Yes, I’m probably overreacting, and I’m sure I will be fine. I will continue to call her, but it will be tough to converse, as I will constantly be reminded of this event.
Yikes.
-Tofer