Serious, sad, and yes, I'm emotionally scarred

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

Oh, please don’t neglect her or feel uncomfortable because of what she said in her dementia…her outings with her grandson are probably one of the highlights of her life, and you are a good grandson for continuing to do so.

Instead, love her as much as you can, and if she slips up and says something like that again, just gently divert her away from the topic.

If you need to go to a therapist, do so, but don’t stop seeing grandma - before you know it, she may be gone, and you’ll be left with regrets.

Maybe a therapist would be able to explain why she might say such a thing and that can ease your mind. Maybe she momentarily forgot that you were related. Maybe she is confusing family love with sexual love. Heck, maybe she forgot what “making love” actually means. My sympathies are with you, it sounds like a sad and frustrating experience.

My first thought was that she forget you were her grandson and just noticed a handsome man treating her to lunch.

Regardless, I don’t think there can be any wiser advice than Anaamika’s. Do what you need to help yourself through the trauma, but don’t abandon your grandmother. That’s not something you can get back later.

You’re absolutely right, and I will continue to call her, and see her when I visit. And yes, I’ll get over this one, but it was quite a shock. Thanks!

-Tofer

I’m thinking she didn’t realize what she said. She may well have sexual urges (what? You think it dies off when you hit retirement? No way)–but she is misdirecting them. That’s the dementia.

If you look at her statements as part of her sickness, that should help–they are a part of it. Next time it happens, maybe say something kind that acknowledges that aspect of her, but also shows her that that topic is taboo. Not easy, but what’s the alternative? Not seeing her? Condemning her for a basic drive? Ostracizing her for having dementia?

Maybe say something like, (this may squik you out)–“if you were 30 years younger and I wasn’t your grandson…” Said lovelingly, that cues her into reality, but also tells her that she’s ok to have these feelings.

If she remembers the interchange (if she has moments of lucidity) think how awful she must feel. (unless she is an ancient Greek goddess…heh).

You KNOW she didn’t mean it. Talk to your Mom about it–unless that might cause major ructions.

I’m sorry but I chuckled a little about your story. Not laughing at you though, just at what people can say. I am not without sympathy as I had a grandfather die of Alzheimer’s and I know that anything can come out and they are just confused, so please don’t worry that your grandma is in love with you or anything. It’s possible she has you mixed up with someone else in her mind. My husband’s grandma is also having a lot of dementia right now and she is always going on about what man she is in love with, her details sound like a soap opera and none of it is true. It is also common that past events or people can be mixed up with current ones, so it may be that she thinks sometimes that she is still your age and you are someone else - I am sure the comment is not to be taken at face value and try not to get upset over it. They sometimes slip in and out of awareness for seemingly no reason. At the end of my grandfather’s life sometimes we would just have to chuckle at the wildly inappropriate things he would say or do, but we knew it was not really him doing those things. It is still very shocking to hear things like that coming from grandma or grandpa though!

My guess is that she didn’t remember her relationship with you; you were either just a nice guy she was out with, or she thought you were a specific someone in her life, perhaps her husband or lover in an earlier time of life.

But I think I can top this, or at least come close. In the final weeks of my father’s life, he often did not clearly realize where he was, or with whom, due to some dementia and also some pain-relieving meds. I was visiting him in the hospital, and he believed I was my late mother. He was *very explicit * in describing the things he and I should do together, and they were marital in nature, not at all the kinds of things one needs to hear from her father! :o :o

I’m sorry. Really. I am. But I can’t stop giggling. Maybe it’s because my grandparents have been dead since I was 10 so I don’t really have a reference. I’m also sorry I’m such a bad bad person.

Definitely tell your mom though. If this is a pattern, it’s something to tell grandma’s doctor.

I kinda think the event was sweet in a way. Your grandma is apretty forward thinking for a lady brought up in her era. Was she always such a rebel?

Anyway, I agree with the others- she probably just thought a handsome and kind young man was taking her to lunch.

This is a broad generalization to make, but I believe there’s some truth to the notion that Alzheimer’s tends to exaggerate elements that have always existed in the sufferer’s personality.

My maternal Grandma was always something of a bossy person, and as her dementia accelerated, she became insufferably authoritarian, issuing directives to complete strangers about their weight and personal habits, among other things.

Here’s an actual example of a monologue she once delivered:

See that tree in the neighbors’ yard?
That’s an ugly tree.
I don’t like that tree.
They should cut that tree down.
Someone should MAKE them cut that tree down.

Anyway, we learned not to blame her. Maybe she’d always been a mean old crank deep inside, but she was only showing it because of the disease. It wasn’t her conscious intention to be mean to us or the neighbors. And correcting her didn’t do any good – she’d forget it within minutes and repeat herself. One really does get stream-of-consciousness déjà vu from a dementia sufferer.

And she would not remember what had just happened anyway. “There is only the moment,” my grandfather (her husband) wisely said, “so I will make that moment as happy for her as I can.”

As she descended into dementia, she knew less and less, and she grew fearful of what she did not understand: which, in the end, was everything. It was a ghastly fate, and my mother has vigorously participated in every Alzheimer’s study she can, as her own way of fighting back.

In this context, and I hope you will forgive me, I find it utterly charming that your grandmother is randy and flirty. Maybe (as was the case with my own grandmother) she was always like this somewhere deep down inside; she was young once, you know. Maybe it’s a random byproduct of her dementia. Her internal world appears to be neither mean nor terrifying. Perhaps she is young and beautiful and the toast of the town. And a handsome man has taken her to dinner! How wonderful! At least you know she likes you. :slight_smile:

She likely won’t recall the comments, and may repeat them in the future, as if they were new. There is only the moment.

If I were you, I would smile and nod and wait for the moment to pass. I assure you it will, all too soon.

Sailboat

When my grandma reached a certain age, she started giving everyone, male and female, inappropriately long kisses on the lips. Creepy, but mostly just sad.

Instead of focussing on the shock and trauma, try to see some humor in your grandma’s behavior (she honestly doesn’t know what she’s saying).
At least she didn’t proposition the waiter.

:smiley:

Correct me if I’m wrong but in old movies didn’t the term “making love” usually mean necking or cuddling and not necessarily doing the nasty?

I’m thinking that you probably resemble your grandfather and maybe she’s starved for physical affection. Those two things combined with the dementia caused her to speak to you in a not so grandmotherly fashion.

I think (hope) as time passes it won’t be so terribly icky and traumatic for you.

I believe it meant flirting at one point-a lot of very flowery, lovey-dovey talk.

Just keep reminding yourself-that was not your grandmother, but her disease talking. That and what would be worse-for her to confuse you with your grandfather, or for her to be frightened and paranoid all the time?

This is what I was thinking. If her husband was your biological grandfather, quite naturally, you probably look just like him when he was younger. In her dementia, she may think she’s young again and on a date with her husband.

Of course, as others have said, it’s nothing to worry about. You are a wonderful grandson, to be sure. Get therapy if you feel you need it, there’s nothing wrong with that. Your family is lucky to have you, I think.

I worked in a hostpial kitchen in high school and we did the food service for an Alzheimer’s clinic. A clinic that just had 30 Alzheimer’s patients in it.

Basically, it’s presented to the world as “extreme forgetfulness” or whatever, but to me it was just batshit crazy.

And, some of it is just very base stuff like your grandma did. There was a guy who would whip it out and pee on the floor. Some of the old men were VERY DIRTY MINDED. . .a thought would pop into their head and they would just vocalize it. Some people would spotaneously cry. Some would just sing. Some would just pick imaginary things up off the floor.

I think that you can rest assured that your grandmother doesn’t want to make love to you.

I bet the only thing in her mind was, “Man present. Therefore Sex.”

Funny, I’ve had that thought on occasion, too. :wink:

tofergregg, you’ll be fine. She still loves you, even if she forgets who you are sometime.

My grandmother did the same thing when her faculties declined. It was horrible. I’m not sure if this will be comforting or not but this is a phase that will pass and a new kind of horrible will take its place. It was difficult but I visited grandma whenever I could but eventually we would stay at her place and not go out.

I think that’s the best you can do, too. Alzheimer’s is still VERY poorly understood, and what gets that label is often a collection of interrelated or overlapping conditions. It can be heartbreaking, and so humor can be a loved one’s best defense.

A story a friend of mine tells about her now-deceased mother-in-law cracks both of us up. Mary (my friend) was having dinner with her MIL and some others in a very upscale restaurant, before MIL’s symptoms were consistently present. A pianist gave a perfomance in a corner of the restaurant, playing beautifully. MIL listened attentively, and when it was over, stood up, clapped loudly and then yelled sarcastically:

“Oh yes, just magnificent! So many notes to play, and not a single one of them in tune! Get off the stage!”