(A story written in the same "how to" style as Lorrie Moore)

How You Deal as Her Granddaughter

Sit on the couch across from grandma.  Watch her gaping mouth and occasional movement from active dreams.  Mom will stand in the living room entrance.  Don’t look at her.  You don’t have to look at her to know she’s giving you that disapproving mom look.

            “All I’m asking is for you to stay here for one afternoon and take care of your grandma.  One afternoon!” Mom will say, loudly.

            And then Grandma will begin to snore, loudly.  Her hearing aids are on the coffee table.  Try not to look at them, but when you do you can’t help but think about the earwax that must be coating them to make them shine and reflect like that.

            Mom will still be talking, “…I hope you’ll take care of me when I’m old,” she’ll finally finish.

            Fiddle around with the expensive bracelet you bought with your birthday money.

Say to your mom, “You said you wanted to go to a retirement home.” Say, “You said you would like all the fun activities they’ll have!”  Ask, “Why doesn’t grandma go to a retirement place while you’re at your meeting?”

            “Because she has a sixteen-year old granddaughter who would be more than  happy to stay here with her and spend time with her,” Mom will say.  And then she’ll say “Thank you” as she turns and walks out of the room.

            Slump back on the couch.  Look at grandma’s saggy skin.  Push your cheeks around to see what it would feel like if they were loose and thin like hers.  Think about how mom wrapped a blue snowman blanket around grandma even though it’s summer.

            Wipe your eyes that are wet from frustration, and then pull out your cell phone and call your best friend.

            “Hey!” She says.

            “Hi,” you say.

            “What’s wrong?” she asks.

            “Mom won’t let me hang out with you cause I have to stay and watch grandma while mom’s at some Alzheimer’s meeting.”

            “That’s dumb.  I’ll call Jenny and ask if she wants to hang out.”

            Say, “Okay, have fun,” and hang up.

            Think about how you hope Jenny is busy or really boring, and then say it out loud too.  Grandma will wake up.

            Watch her eyes open as she sits up and looks around.  She’ll straighten her sleeves and rub her face and then start moving the blanket around.  Watch her fold a corner over, and then crease that down with her other hand.  Then watch as she undoes that, does it again, undoes it… and then say “What are you doing grandma?”

            She will look at you, squinting and shading her eyes because the glaucoma makes it hard for her to see.

            “Oh well hello,” she’ll say when she sees you.  Then she’ll start messing with the blanket again. 

            Sigh.  Stand up and walk over to her chair.

            Repeat, “What are you doing grandma?”

            She’ll say, “Oh, well… they put this here and… I’m supposed to do that, he said, but I can’t remember now… oh my,” She will drop the blanket, fold her skinny hands together, sigh, and smile at you.

            Notice how her smile is so different from when you were little.  Even her smile is full of confusion now, as if she’s not sure smiling is the right reaction but it’s what came naturally to her nonetheless.

You could smile back and reaffirm her in some way, but instead take the blanket off of her and say, “Do you want a snack?”

            “Oh, well I don’t know,” she’ll mumble.

            “Come on, lets go get some food,” you say, “You haven’t eaten in a while.  Are you hungry?”

            “That’s alright, I don’t need anything,” she’ll say, “You just go take care of yourself.”

            Ignore her and warn her you’re putting the footrest down, but it will still startle her when the chair rocks forward.

            “Okay,” Say to her, “I’m going to help you stand up now.”

Wrap your arms around her and lift her up out of the chair.  She’ll wobble, so quickly support her arm and put her cane in her other hand.

Begin the slow walk to the kitchen.  Mom always rushes her, you’ve noticed.  You’re always afraid grandma will fall if you do that, though.  Or it will be like dragging a dog on a leash who is tired and doesn’t want to go any faster.  You feel guilty for doing that to your dog, so you won’t do that to grandma. 

When you make it to the kitchen have her sit at the table.

Mom will come into the room then, so quickly open the refrigerator and get really busy moving stuff around in there.

“She’s up,” mom will say, “Thank you for making her a snack.  Make sure you take her to the bathroom later too, okay?”

“Yeah,” You say with your face still in the refrigerator.  Your arm hair is standing up and you have goosebumps up and down your bare skin.

 “Thank you.  I’ll be back in a couple hours.” She’ll say as she grabs her car keys, but then she’ll walk over to grandma. 

Your ears are freezing.  Close the refrigerator.

“I’m going out for a little bit, okay?” Your mom says loudly so that grandma will hear her.  “Can you get her hearing aids?” She says to you.  You go get them.

“Here,” Hold out the earwax hearing aids as you walk towards her.

“I have to go now, can you put them in?” She’ll say, and then she walks down the hall and the front door squeaks open and seals shut and you stay there holding the hearing aids.

Sometimes you talk out loud to yourself when just grandma’s around because you’re pretty sure she doesn’t really know what you’re saying.

Say, “Thanks a lot mom. They’re covered in ear wax!”

“Oh?  Yes.” Grandma will say.  She sounds interested because she didn’t really hear or understand what you said, but you said it loud enough that she thinks she should respond.

Ignore her.

Put a bowl of ice-cream and a glass of water in front of her.  Explain that it’s for her to eat.  Explain that “No,” you don’t want any because you have your own bowl in front of you.  Explain how a spoon works.  Demonstrate how a spoon works. 

Three minutes later when you’re done wiping the sticky ice cream off of grandma’s fingers, put icecream on the spoon and put it in her mouth.

Attempt to have conversation.

“It’s warm outside” you say.

“Oh is it?” She says while staring outside at the sunny porch.

“Yeah.  It is.” You say, and then give up on the conversation and eat in silence.

When she’s done eating, clear the table and ask her if she needs to go the bathroom.  She’ll say it’s a good idea.  Walk slowly.

“It’s cold,” She’ll say as soon as you walk into the bathroom.

“It’s not so bad.” You say.

“You’re trying to freeze me,” She’ll mutter and rub her hands together. 

She’ll complain about having to have her pants down to use the bathroom.  She’ll say that it is certainly not how she normally does it.  Do your best to ignore the death by freezing comments and get the toilet paper ready.

Wait impatiently.  Look intently at everything in the medicine cupboard and turn the sink on.

When you’re finally done in the bathroom, bring her back to her brown recliner in the living room.  Put the snowman blanket on her.  Smile when she sighs in contentment and tells you the blanket feels good.

“I love you grandma,” You say.  And you mean it.

She won’t say anything. 

Lay on the couch and fall asleep listening to the old-time favorites you put in the cd player for her to listen to.

When mom comes home ask her if you can go to a movie with Jenny.  She’ll say yes. 

When she asks you about how your afternoon with grandma went, you say “I don’t remember,” because Grandma doesn’t.