I had gone shopping with my mother and sister. My sister was driving and pulled into a parking space. Out of nowhere, my mother says, “I can limp, if you want.” My sister and I looked at each other for a second and burst out laughing. Mom thought we’d pulled into a handicapped space–we’d actually pulled into the next space over–and needed her to fake it for us.
My grandmother died of Alzheimer’s and Pancreatic cancer 2 years ago. She was almost completely blind. The strangest moments were when she seemed lucid then said something totally bizarre. I usually got mistaken for my; father, brother, or sister in that order. There was the time she called my parents’ house to ask if I was coming over for my bath (I was 16) and that was before she got bad. Or how she’d “travel back in time” and think it was the 70s/60s/50s. I remember one time she had my grandfather searching the house for her ration book. It was weird how well she could recall stuff from her childhood. Oh and she always hated dogs. We had a miniature dachshund, J, who she was always afraid he’d get her clothes dirty or scratch her. As her dementia got worse she fell in love with him. He’d always come with me to visit her and she’d put put him on her lap and pet him. Then she’d complain that the dog “made a mess” on her. After the first few times we figured out she was using him to maintain her dignity.
My grandfather used to eat roasted peanuts without his teeth - maybe some people just have tough gums??
DeVena’s in AL, which means “barbeque” is what we call “pulled pork”, not ribs. If it’s done right, it should be just fine to eat without teeth.
It’s more than England and America becoming divided by a common language! 
HA! I like this.
I remember hearing about a woman who had some kind of dementia, and towards the end, she would just wave at everybody. Apparently, she thought she was on a cruise ship and was in perpetual bon voyage.
For two years, I rented a room in an old lady’s house near the grad school I was attending. She wasn’t very old chronologically (62 when we met) but quite frail; her daughters (if I ever got the count right, 2 biological and 3 steps) had convinced her to put up the rooms for rent because that way if anything happened it would be easier for someone to find out early.
One day I woke up at 5am. As I headed to the kitchen for a glass of water I heard strange noises from Mama’s bedroom. It sounded like she was moaning the way she would when she stubbed a toe, with her mouth tightly closed trying to dampen the sound. I put my ear to the door and yes, that’s what it sounded like. I called out to her, she said something, I went in - and found her lying in a pool of blood.
I called her daughter (who happened to be visiting), we called 911, I went to the hospital with Mama while Lena found and brought the insurance papers. The nurses didn’t want to let me stay with Mama since I wasn’t family legally speaking but the head paramedic told them I was “the person in charge, period” so I was able to stay with her. Three bags of blood later they told us if we’d taken half an hour longer it would have been too late.
She’d started bleeding around 10pm but hadn’t wanted to make a fuss.
Three of SiL’s grandparents have had Alzheimer’s; the fourth, Parkinson’s. She’s often told my brother how lucky we are, because well, our two surviving grandparents are a bit strange (you don’t know half of it honey) but from what we told her it’s the way they’ve always been. Actually it’s nice that they’re so old: nowadays when Gramps slaps a supermarket cashier’s ass, she accepts Grandma’s “don’t pay attention to him” thinking the old man’s just gaga…
Anyway, SiL’s got one grandmother left. She mistakes two of her three granddaughters for two of her sisters and from the conversations we reckon she thinks they’re in their teens; doesn’t recognize any of her own children. At least she’s pacific, you park her in a chair and if you don’t tell her something she doesn’t even move. She remembers how to knit, so her daughters will start a scarf, give it to her to continue, change the thread when they see she’s run out and finish it up when it’s done; then they give him another. It seems to entertain her more than anything else.
A friend’s father had Alzheimer’s too, but this one got violent. His wife and him eloped against her parents’ wishes; they disinherited her. The old man would mistake his sons for his brothers in law and try to kill them. They figured it was time to put him in a home on the day it took four men to get him off his eldest son when the son was already purple.
My grandmother was slowly declining due to Parkinson’s disease, but my grandfather absolutely refused to admit that she had any cognitive problems whatsoever. Never mind that she was hallucinating strange children and convinced that there were demons in the closet, he claimed she was “just being playful”. One day, he walks into the bedroom, she sees him (her husband of nearly 50 years), she smiles politely and announces, “Hello, my name is Edna Jones*”. Ever since this time, whenever one of the rest of us is feeling spacey or exhausted, we will announce “Hello, my name is Edna Jones.”
When grandma was finally put into a nursing home, she had an interview with the social worker. The social worker came up to my mother, very enthusiastic about the “interesting life <grandma> had had”. According to the social worker, she had met and married a different man (than my grandfather) and had kept the marriage secret for over a decade because he was jewish, and had several children by this other man that none of us had ever heard of. The details she gave suggested that the man she was talking about was, in fact, my grandfather and the children were her acknowledged daughters. To this day we have no idea if she was confused/demented (likely), if she was making up stories to impress the social worker (also likely), or if she genuinely had a secret marriage and chose to reveal it late in life (who knows?).
I like to think it’s the latter - mostly because it makes me proud to think of her as a hellion in her day.
mischievous
*name changed, of course
My wife’s grandmother was 94 and her mind had been slipping for the past 10 years. Finally she was put into a nursing facility because she was attempting to serve people brown ice cubes (she put gravy in the ice cube trays) and almost burnt down her apartment when she decided to make her own ashes for Ash Wednesday from the palm fronds she got on Palm Sunday.
When her older sister died we took her to the wake. Every so often she would turn to my wife and ask, “Who’s in the box?”
“It’s your sister Mary.”
“Oh Lord, poor Mary. She was so young. How old was she?”
“She was 98, Grandma.”
“Oh that’s OK then. And how old am I?”
“You’re 94.”
“No I’m not!”
She would then sit sulking for a few minutes then would start it again.
She also asked, “Where are Pat and Jim?”
My wife, thinking Grandma was referring to her (my wife’s) brothers, said, “They’re at work but will be here soon.”
Grandma got livid. “At work! They’re not at their own sister’s funeral!”
My wife quickly figured out that Grandma was thinking about her own brothers. MY wife told her, “Grandma, your brother Jim is still living in Ireland and has never left there. And Pat has been dead for 20 years.”
This got Grandma crying about her dead brother.
After the funeral we went to the luncheon. Grandma seemed to be doing OK, wasn’t asking inappropriate things or crying. As we were leaving, she turned to the group and said, “This was a lovely party. We’ll have to do this again real soon!”
Just ordered sauce. <<giggle>> Oh if you only knew my parents…
Yep, it was pulled (or chopped) pig on a plate. So just picture them, an old crotchety couple, fussing at each other as they eat chopped barbecue with no teeth and very few table manners.
I might need to make a formal apology to the restaurant.
Dad hasn’t worn his false teeth in 15 years. (Can you tell I’m in Alabama? :smack: ) At my wedding, as he was about to walk me down the aisle, Dad turns to me and, in all seriousness, asks me if he has to wear his teeth. I said “No, but no teeth also means not being in any of the wedding pictures.” He put in his teeth.
My mother had to get false teeth at a relatively young age, and did not take them out except when forced to for hospialization. When she was in the hospital at one point, a nurse was doing an admissions interview (I wasn’ there) and asked Mom if she had her own teeth. Mother replied yes. The day following the surgery, I was present when the same nurse arrived to give Mom a lecture about lying to her about having false teeth. Mom said: “I didn’t lie. You asked me if I had my own teeth, and these damn sure are mine, I paid enough for them. You didn’t ask me if I had false teeth.”
She hated to be seen without her teeth. When the nurse would take them before surgery, Mom would keep her hand over her mouth all the way to surgery. Her first words in recovery were always “Give me my teeth”.
Did it taste like ear wax? Ewwww…
My mom can be like that, too, and she’s not all that old (because my definition of “really old” is “much older than my parents”). A couple of years ago, she was visiting us from Maryland, and she was having bad stomach pains. She didn’t tell me or Mr. Neville how bad it was until it got worse and we had to take her to the ER at 1:30am.