Grandpa: The one where I’m disgusted

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I have a very sensitive gag reflex when it comes to mucous. If I hear someone spit- and dear god, if I see them, I will start dry-heaving. And that is how breakfast with Grandpa ended.

My mom and aunt aren’t very nice to my grandpa. Well, it’s not that they’re mean, but, they’re not very good with him (my aunt is the worst, getting upset and shouting at him). That sounds really awful- but, honestly, I can see why. He can be pretty gross, unreasonable, and a complete pain in the ass.

I picked him up at the nursing home on Monday morning and he was sleeping on a bench in the lobby, waiting for me. He had probably been there a half hour. I helped him out to the car and we went to breakfast at his favorite spot called Chippers. Everyone there knows him, and it was pretty obvious they hadn’t seen him in a while. He has had the same waitress for 31 years, and she handles him so well.

My grandpa has it in his head that I drive everywhere. That driving to Streator from Denver in ice storms and blizzards, alone, is no problem. And that even though I flew out, I’d jump at the chance to drive a 90-year-old back to Denver. And then drive him back to Streator . . . in ice storms. I told him it was too dangerous. He told me this summer he wants me to drive out to Streator, drive him to Denver, drive him back to Streator, then drive home (a mere 4,000 mile jaunt). I told him I could fly out, pick him up, and take him by train to Michigan to see his great-granddaughter in August (my sister pre-approved this). He said he’d have to think about it.

I noticed him chewing on something- chewing gum maybe. But I thought it was weird because he hasn’t had teeth in decades. I took him out to the car, him with his walker and me, hovering like I could save him if he slipped and fell. As I was putting the walker in the back of my grandparents’ van my grandpa opened his door, spit something in his hand, then dropped it on the ground. I caught a glimpse. What it was, I can’t be sure- just that it was disgusting. Does he save bits of his food and chew on it for hours at a time? Was it a snot ball? What the fuck? My grandmother would have snapped at him. God, I miss her. She was the glue- keeping him in check and keeping her daughters in contact with him.

He was still chewing on something. I started dry-heaving. I couldn’t stop for 10 minutes- the vision of him chewing on snot balls would not leave my mind. I hoped he wouldn’t see me or understand what was going on. We drove around for a half hour, he wanted to go to Ottawa and see the river and check for barges. There were none. I turned the music up, trying to drown out the chewing noise. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in, Breathe out. He saw my cousin’s cigarettes, and he asked me if I smoked. I told him they were Brian’s. He said, “I didn’t know you smoked.” I tried several times to explain it to him and finally gave up.

I asked him if he wanted me to pick him up at 5:30 after dinner so we could drive around and he could see the Christmas lights. He said he goes to bed really early, and if he was seeing me in the morning, then it would be better if we didn’t. Well, okay then.

On the way inside, some guy (relatively young for a nursing home- maybe 50) was trying to walk out to a car- it appeared he may have cerebral palsy or something similar. I stood and watched him a moment, trying to figure out if he was an escapee. He reached the car, then turned around and shouted something inaudible at me. When I got my grandpa inside, I told the receptionist. She jumped up to look out the window. “Oh for heaven’s sake!” She ran outside. I watched the ruckus as I spoke to the nursing home administrator in her office. She said the only way my grandpa could come to Colorado is if:

1) We had an accredited nursing home in Colorado

2) There was a doctor at said nursing home

3) He had transportation to the nursing home from Illinois.

Check, check and check. Then:

Your grandfather has to pay back the money he owes us. We know he has money.

Correction: My grandfather had a small bit of money. But being that he’s old, stubborn, can’t hear, lonely and depressed, he gave it to his sister’s daughter’s daughter’s widower’s wife for paying attention to him. Actually, it was for safe-keeping so the nursing home wouldn’t steal it from him. He no longer has any money. When we asked for it back, my aunt got $3000, but not the other $5000 that she spent. My grandpa refused to allow me to step in and try to get it back.

How much does he owe you?

Three thousand dollars.

That’s a strange coincidence.

Do you even have a power of attorney?

We tried to get him to designate us last summer. But he pretty much told us to fuck off. Which, is why I haven’t seen him in a while. I wasn’t about to tell her that.

We have no reason to have one at the moment. But I’ll get it if this move to Colorado is even possible.

Damn, she was being bitchy.

Well, call me when you have the first three steps taken care of. We’ll discuss it from there.

My mother or aunt will be in contact. They requested that I get some preliminary information. We tried to move him last summer but encountered problems trying to transfer Medicaid and Medicare.

I see. I’ll wait to hear from them.

I went outside and smoked one of Brian’s cigarettes. The same guy who escaped out the front door earlier opened another door- a service door of sorts. He stuck his head out and I could see that he wet himself, fresh urine darkened his sweat pants from his stomach to his ankles.

Are you the nurse?

No.

Oh. Okay. I thought you were.

In your dreams, buddy. In your dreams.

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Tags: Grandpa, grandparents, Growing Old, Nursing Home