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“GRANDPA, want some more prunes?”
“Wha…eh?” He was failing and I loved it.
“I SAID DO YOU NEED TO LEAVE SO SOON?!”
“I what…I’m leaving?”
“Yes Grampa Andy. You go home today—back to live with Grandma.”
“Jimmy I—I thought she was dead.” His weak-little, raspy-whisper-of-a-voice momentarily made me feel guilty.
“GRANDPA, YOU’RE GETTING A LITTLE FORGETFUL THESE DAYS, GRANDMA IS DEAD!” I scolded him. “NOW WHERE DID YOU SAY WE WERE GOING?!”
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I just don’t know what’s happening anymore.” His voice trailed-off and he looked truly horrified.
“That’s okay Gramp—Just look at this red light over here so your mother can see your face.”
“Wha!—My mother. I thought you said she was dead.”
I scolded him severly. “GRANDPA ANDY!! I TOLD YOU GRANDMA WAS DEAD; YOUR MOTHER IS RIGHT OUTSIDE THE WINDOW WAITING FOR YOU! NOW HOLD THIS FOR ME AND THEN WE’LL GO SEE HER.”
As I handed him his full bedpan, I rammed it into his arms, spilling the entire thing on his face and pyjama shirt.
“Oh my God! He began meekly crying as he spat shit and roughly wiped at his face with his stroke-damaged arms.”
I pulled the emergency string and yelled, "NURSE!!"
She was there—looking irritated—in a few seconds.
“My Grandpa tried to pick up his bedpan.”
He was spitting and drooling and the room wreaked.
“My mother is at the window,” he said with deep longing in his voice as he shifted anxiously against the bed restraints.”
“Grandpa Andy, that’s just a camera. I came to make a moving picture of you.”
“Wha…eh…I can’t hear. Ooooaaaah God take me please.”
The nurse interupted his groans. “Mr. Sturgis, we’ll get Saturday in here to clean you up in a second.” She turned to me and said, “That’s so nice of you to make a video of your Grandfather.”
“Well, you know he means a lot to me; I’m so sorry this had to happen,” I said gesturing with both hands.
“Oh believe me, we see it everyday,” she sympathized, then added, “Please don’t let it stop you from visiting again.”
“Of course I won’t,” I reassured.
Dudes, Elderabuse.com was cutting me some major checkage.
Date Written: December 15, 2004
Author: hagit mizrachy
Average Vote: 4.3333