Hanging In There...

We're doing just that -- hanging in there. The past week has been a roller coaster for us. Grandma took a serious turn for the worst and we do spend every night wondering if we'll get to see her in the morning. It is terribly hard to watch someone you love go through an experience like this, but we are thankful for the time we're spending with her and the fact that no matter how bad it gets, grandma still acts like grandma.

She spends a lot of time sleeping, yelling at God and listening to Dean Martin. We like to shuffle in some Rod Stewart, but Dean Martin's "Italian Love Songs" are just soooo dreamy.

Every once in a while, grandma wakes up to let us know how she's feeling. She has some trouble communicating and sometimes gets people mixed up, but when she really wants to tell you something...she'll tell you. This morning my mom was asking her a lot of rapid fire questions..."Are you in pain? Do you want to listen to music? How about some water?" That's sometimes the only way you can get a response and in this particular instance she snapped, "shut up, Maryanne!"

After not speaking for several days, my grandmother informed me that she would like me to purchase some ex lax and find out who was going to be taking her to church on Sunday. God, if you're listening...I would not want to know what she had planned for you.

Finally, grandma's most hated activity is the inevitable time of day when we have to give her a bath. My mom rolled her over to me at which point grandma grabbed my arm with the strength of ten men and whispered "Get me out of here."

So if you've been curious, we're all hanging in there. Grandma will find peace when she is ready and until then, we'll just keep loving her.

Over the past two months, grandma has had some really great days and some really bad days. Today was a really bad day.

It may be that by the time you read this post, we will have said goodbye to our favorite lady.

I am honored to have shared with you the last few stories of my life with my grandma. She is a beautiful person whose generous heart, warm smile and hilarious disposition has taught me so many wonderful things.

My family and I appreciate your prayers for peace and hope you will keep my grandma's memory in your heart.

Another Delivery!

We just received another gift from the home health people....a hoyer lift!Hoyer lifts are used to assist caretakers in lifting patients out of bed. Every morning, I literally pick up my grandma and stand her up on her feet. I'm pretty strong, but it is a tough job. So my mom asked the home health people if they had anything that could help and this is what we got.

We thought we would try it ourselves before making any attempts with grandma

.

The first step is to load the patient into the sling. We had some trouble with this, as the lift began to descend on my mom like a claw. Eventually, we got it to work.

Next, you crank the patient in the air.


Finally, you place a wheelchair underneath the patient and then they drop into it.

There is no way in hell grandma is going to let us put her in this contraption....but we're keeping it anyway.

...

...FedEx just dropped off another package full of these...that's right...another package full of enemas...

HELP!

Everyone Poops

Whether you like it or not, poop is a very important part of your life. In fact, if you are not pooping regularly, I suggest you stop reading, call Jamie Lee Curtis and ask her to drop off a case of Activia.

Unfortunately, if you are taking as many pain pills as my grandma, no amount of poop-inducing yogurt is going to help you. Everyone was getting a little worried because we couldn't even remember the last time grandma pooped.

Well, it finally happened and I was there (alone, of course) for the joyous occasion. I was happy for grandma and I thought she would share my sentiment, but all she cared about was...The Amazing Race. Yes, that's right -- she was more concerned about missing a new episode of The Amazing Race than her first poop in what may have been a week.

"We're going to miss The Amazing Race!!" she shouted. "Hurry! Hurry!"

Now, without going into too much detail, if you haven't pooped in a long time, the stuff that comes out smells horrific. It's terrible and if you don't poop in a long time, your poop will also smell terrible. That's life, people.

So there I was...praying God would take away my sense of smell, trying to clean up and get us out of there while she screamed about some terrible reality TV show. For Christ's sake the show is on CBS and that network hasn't broadcast a good show in decades. What was she really going to miss?

Luckily, I managed to wheel her in front of the TV just in time for the opening credits. Success! I took a deep breath, sat down on the couch and looked over to see my grandma...sleeping.

Are You There God? It's Me, Grandma

I suppose my family and our relationship with God is pretty unique. Obviously we care enough about this whole religion thing to not throw out Mary Queen of the Dryer, but we simply cannot give up a Sunday morning to attend church. Grandma, on the other hand, went to church every Sunday and as I am learning, speaks to God on a regular basis.

Attempting any task (walking, bathroom, shower, eating, watching TV, staring at the wall, etc.) involves a number of conversations with God. Although, there isn't much dialogue. Here is how it goes...

Grandma: Oh God, help me God. God...Where is God? God help me...God dammit.

God: *silence*

This continues until the task is completed. Now...either God's voice is similar to a dog whistle and only grandmas can hear it or...God isn't talking back. I don't think that means God is ignoring us, but it is getting on my nerves. God is not heaving grandma out of bed. God is not dispensing medications. God is not doing the laundry and cleaning the house. God doesn't even watch Jeopardy with us.

I'm not looking for any credit, but maybe God could pipe in and let her know that yelling for him isn't going to get her butt wiped any faster.

Honey, We're Home!

After two months of rehab and one trip to the hospital, grandma is finally home! I've been spending the last few days making her house walker/wheelchair accessible and moving in my stuff. Yes, that is right...I now live with grandma.

I was a little nervous, but grandma is a pretty good roommate and her first night home was fairly low key. After arriving in the afternoon, we enjoyed some Chinese food delivered by my mom and sister. Then we watched TV...a lot of TV...so much TV that I thought my brain was turning to mush. Luckily my brain stayed in tact because grandma demanded I clean the house before the nurse (home health care) showed up for her assessment.

"This place is a mess! What is that box over there? Megan....what is that tiny speck of paper in the corner, under the sofa? It's hot in here. What is that outside?" I was worried she might start asking about why the sky is blue and where babies come from.

So the place was clean, the nurse came and left (2 hours later...), we ate our zippy toast and finally it was time for bed. Grandma is used to going to bed at 6:30 or 7, so this new 8:30 bedtime was a stretch for her. She literally hit the pillow and was asleep. It was too good to be true.

After mushing my brain with a few more hours of TV, I decided I should go to bed too. Of course, I would be the one with insomnia. I had my alarm set for 5 a.m. (that's when she gets her first course of pills in the morning) and I suppose I was just too excited to sleep. I think I stayed up most of the night, which would normally be OK...but my day started at 4:36 a.m.

"I can't get out of this bed! Help me!" grandma screamed.

I went in to learn grandma was desperate to get to the bathroom. No problem. We just have to get up. Uh oh...problem. You try getting a barely awake, 91-year-old woman out of bed. I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my life. I also realized I have the strength of ten men as I literally hoisted her up on to her feet. We made it to the bathroom and then she didn't want to go back to sleep? Well, the manual labor wore me out and I was really ready to go to sleep. I wheeled her in the living room, plopped her in front of the TV and I crashed on the couch.

This is going to be more difficult than I thought...

Becoming Grandma

Most people spend their entire lives trying to differentiate themselves from their family. You are an individual. You are your own person. Sound familiar? I can't say I ever put much effort into being unlike my family. My mom likes margaritas and I like margaritas. My dad likes to write and I like to write. My sister likes to run and I like to run. But, I never thought I would share any similarities with my grandma.

Before my grandma fell and broke her hip, I spent a "normal" amount of time with her. She helped take care of me when I was little*. Before college I would occasionally clean around her house to earn spending money. When I moved away, I would call every few weeks and pay a visit when I had some spare time. Obviously, I wasn't spending enough time to notice the signs...the signs that indicate: I am grandma.

Here is the proof...

Chocolate - Chocolate tastes like dirt. I will only eat chocolate in extremely small quantities (chocolate chip cookies are pushing it) or if there is nothing else on the planet to eat and I have to survive to save the human species. This may seem insignificant to you, but try telling your friends that you don't want a piece of their triple fudge cake and take a good look at their appalled faces. There are not many people on Earth that hate chocolate as much as I do. In fact, I have only met one other person that shares this hatred...she is my grandma.

"The News" - I am obsessed with the news. I can't remember ever missing an edition of The TODAY Show (morning or weekend), I read the newspaper every day and when I'm bored, I log onto news websites and consume more news. My first real job was on the assignment desk for a local NBC affiliate and now I'm a publicist. You can't get anymore news obsessed than that, kids. You know who else loves the news? I'll give you one guess. Grandma watches the morning news, fills the afternoon with cable news (CNN, MSNBC, FOX), enjoys every edition of the evening news beginning at 4 p.m. and her favorite show at the end of the week? 60 Minutes.

Food - Our philosophy on food is similar to our philosophy on hobbies. Foie gras? No. Bacon? Yes. We also eat like we will never see food again. You know why? Because you might not see food again and food is great. And no, we are not obese.

Hobbies - Lately I have noticed a lot of my friends posting about their hobbies on Facebook. When you people aren't busy healing the blind, competing in triathlons and scrapbooking the entire experience, grandma and I are watching TV. Look, we're all for making a positive impact on the world, living your life, blah blah blah...but we're content with the simple things (TV, books, staring at the wall) and are really tired of your motivational quotes. As grandma tells her physical therapist, "I just want to sit here and watch TV. Is that too much to ask?"

Finally, the most important quality my grandma and I share is a mutual appreciation for the art of listening. Listening is a skill that has proved quite valuable to me and is a trait I rarely see in others. Grandma is the only other person I know who knows what it means to really listen. A few years ago, we were sitting around the house talking about nothing in particular. Grandma was sitting quietly in a chair, seeming to pay attention to nothing but the wall. I forgot why it was said, but someone said "Oh don't worry, she's not listening." What I won't forget was grandma turning to me and whispering, "You know I hear everything."

If I had a nickel for every time someone told me "_______ could only happen to you, Meg," I would definitely not be looking for a new job. The fact of the matter is, everything that happens to me is happening to you, but I hear everything. Grandma made me a good listener, which helped me become a good storyteller. So if you find yourself reading this and wondering what you might have in common with your family or wish your grandma was as funny to read about as my grandma is...then do as we like to say and "shut up!"

*I always knew how helpful it was to my mom to have my grandma help take care of my sister and I. However, I must have blanked on her care tactics. I learned today that my grandma would dump ice water on us to keep us from napping; thereby ensuring we would go to sleep early. Now you know why I don't like to stay up late.

Welcome to the Club

Yesterday was a rough day for me. I managed to catch some kind of stomach bug and was not able to visit with grandma. It's pretty much common sense to not hang around sick people if you are sick. Although, I'm fairly certain I caught the bug from the sick people in the first place and it really would only be fair to give it right back to them.

Mom ended up spending most of the day with grandma. She may not agree, but I think it was a great day for her. In fact, it was a glorious day because she is now a member of my club. Let me explain.

Grandma has been pretty tired lately. A combination of medications and moving from the nursing home to the hospital and back to the nursing home has really worn her out. It would wear anyone out. Being so tired has also made her a little more irritable. She doesn't have time for anyone's nonsense, so I guess it was good I didn't come around.

After a long day, my mom helped grandma get ready for bed. When grandma is irritable, she likes to play a little trick on people to get them to hang out with her longer. Once she is tucked in, everything for the evening is explained and your one foot out the door, she does it. "I have to go the bathroom." To get her back to the bathroom means starting the enter going-to-bed process over again and that means your head is likely to explode. Knowing grandma really was tired mom decided it would be a good idea to get the bed pan out. Bad idea.

To use the bed pan, you have to roll to the side and then roll back on top of it. Mom kindly asked grandma to roll on her side, probably smiling to herself thinking how smart she is and how she's just the best darn nurse on the planet. Grandma rolled...and grandma farted.

"Happy New Year!" grandma exclaimed.

Mom was officially initiated into the Grandma Farts In My Face Club.

Mary Queen of the Dryer

Nothing exciting is going on at the hospital. Grandma is snoozing and I have watched People's Court, Judge Joe Brown, Swift Justice with Nancy Grace and now Judge Judy. I am bored. I also thought I would share one of my personal favorite family stories. This one is not about my grandma, it's about my mom. I think you will find her equally hilarious.

Our family is Catholic, but I can't remember the last time I went to church, I have never received communion and I'm sure I was only baptized so my mom could finally have an excuse to commission an ice sculpture. Clearly, our family is not religious. Maybe God was sending us a message last year. A tiny message. A tiny message shaped like the Virgin Mary...in our lint trap.

Mary Queen of the Dryer was discovered one evening while my mom was doing laundry. I was sitting in my room, pissing away the time (as usual) when my mom burst into my room and whispered, "I have something to show you....It is in my hand." She unfolded her hand to reveal a tiny Virgin Mary.

"Where did that come from," I asked.

She started laughing, tears streaming down her face..."The lint trap."

It was pretty unbelievable, so of course I had to report the finding to everyone I know, especially since her discovery was after a bizarre Star Wars toy was found in our pantry. We were starting to believe our house had become a burial ground for plastic icons, or perhaps the universe was sending us messages about other worlds. We couldn't be sure.

A few weeks passed and I didn't think much of Mary Queen of the Dryer. I didn't even think my mom kept her. She was small and inherently in danger of being swallowed by the dog (no offense, Mary). It was when Jordan stopped by to get in some kind of trouble with me that I learned of Mary's fate. My mom once again burst on the scene and asked Jordan if she "wanted to see something special." Jordan is used to our antics and immediately deduced "something special" was Mary. She's smart. My mom pranced to the corner of the kitchen and opened a cabinet filled with fancy stemware and there...sitting on the shelf...Mary Queen of the Dryer.

Oh, Shut Up!

It's another beautiful morning at the hospital. Grandma is going to be discharged back to the nursing home today for a little more rehab before we take her home. On such a joyous occasion, I thought I would share grandma's hate list. As she would say, these people just need to "shut up!"

• Marco Rubio and Rick Scott - If you're not familiar with these characters, they are politicians running for office in Florida. I'm not sure what it is about these two guys in particular, but grandma is sick of seeing their ugly mugs on TV. I'd like to throw in Alan Grayson because he really is hideous, I'm tired of looking at him too and we're bipartisan haters in this family.
  
• Survey Nurse - There is a woman at the hospital who is responsible for surveying patients and their families. She's sickeningly sweet and I'm pretty sure that is why grandma hates her. This woman takes her life into her hands whenever she enters the room. Lucky for her, we're leaving today.
  
• All Physical and Occupational Therapists - Grandma has zero patience for these people. They've made some great strides in getting her back on her feet, but I have no idea how they put up with her faces and tricks. She just wants to sit in bed and watch TV and I guess the therapists don't have any exercises for that in their program.
  
• The Price is Right Prize Models - "They are all fat. You can go to California and get a fat ass. Free fat asses! Free fat asses!"
• Anyone Asking Her to Walk - She'll walk when she's ready to walk, OK!? The other day I tried to convince her that walking to the bathroom would be good exercise. What was her response? "You were once my friend and now you are my enemy."
• Oprah - "Oh, she's on TV. Turn it off." To be honest, I'm a little scared to put Oprah on the official hate list. I have no idea what kind of power that woman has and I really don't want to know. But, this blog is about my lovely grandma and she hates Oprah. Sorry, O.
  

Catheter Crisis 2010: The End

Hospital 1; My Mom 0

Although we still have the catheter, it seems the crisis has ended. The first nurse we had explain the catheter situation basically told us she was too lazy to take my grandma to the bathroom. Remember her words? "It was a matter of convenience." My mom marched in like an invading army yesterday, determined to remove the "convenient catheter" if it was still there. It was and she was enraged. Luckily, we got a nurse who seems to care about the words that come out of her mouth in front of patients and family members. This nurse explained that because of a certain medication, it's hospital protocol for grandma to have the catheter. Now was that so hard to explain? All it took was someone with some tact to end Catheter Crisis 2010.

Now for some fun! Helpful, RN explained to us that days three to five in the hospital are usually when patients get a little stir-crazy. I had to ask if she meant to say "family members" instead of "patients" because I think these beige walls are really starting to get to me. Not to mention the family in the room next door. One guy is laughing uncontrollably and I really can't figure out what on Earth he thinks is so funny. I was walking back from the cafeteria last night, holding two cups of coffee and this was apparently the funniest thing that guy has ever seen. Now he's laughing like a maniac and I'm battling paranoia. Great.

Anyway, grandma is also getting a little stir-crazy as evidenced by this dream. When I showed up yesterday afternoon, she just couldn't wait to tell me all about her evening...no pauses.

"I woke up at around 4 a.m. and I was so tangled in the sheets. I couldn't figure out why I was tangled up in these sheets. And I don't know what we're going to do about the incident in the living room because we can't have that little boy coming in the kitchen to have coffee. He was sitting here in the kitchen, right over there! You know, I need to also talk to you about the checks because I'm sick of donating money to all these firehouses and police officers. So anyway, I woke up again because someone was in the driveway and I just know Maryanne is involved. Megan and Maryanne need to figure out who's fault this is and also I'm sick of the pelicans. They are always bringing all the pelicans and all the animals...but never the pigs! Ha ha ha ha ha."

Ladies and gentlemen, the wonders of dreaming on percocet. Now I need to go figure out where I have been getting all those pelicans...

It's Not Funny

**Catheter Crisis 2010 Update: Negotiations are ongoing and with no new developments, I've decided to share some short stories.**

Apparently when you are as old as my grandma, nothing is funny. Burping in someone's face? Not funny. Laughing so hard milk comes out of your nose? Not funny. Talking about peeing your pants? Not funny. Smiling at grandma? Well, you better stop smiling because it is NOT funny.

To grandma, there is nothing about her situation that is funny and you may agree with her. It certainly is not funny to fall and break your hip and you wouldn't want someone laughing at you as you try to recover. However, before you call some elderly activist organization and report me for chronicling my grandmother's antics...I'd like to tell you what she actually does think is funny: abusing others.

• My uncle John and aunt Maria drove to Florida from New York to spend some time with grandma. They spent a few weeks visiting her in the nursing home and running her various errands. Uncle John is a pretty funny guy to most people, but not to grandma. She especially hates when he jokes about walking. As grandma would say, "why do I have to walk when I can sit in a chair and watch TV?" After playfully harassing grandma to get out of her wheelchair and walk to the bathroom, grandma decided it was time for him to be punished for what she thought was not funny. We helped her in to the bathroom, sat her delicately on the toilet and shut the door for privacy. About two minutes later, she starts screaming, "I FELL! I FELL! HELP!" My mom runs into the bathroom only to find grandma laughing like a maniac. "Why did you scream?! Don't scream like that!" mom shouted. "I was just trying to scare John," grandma replied, laughing so hard she was crying. "Now get out so I can pee."
  

• Old people bruise easily. You could touch an old person's arm with a feather and a large, purple bruise would appear. Last week, grandma had a gigantic bruise on her forearm. We supposed she accidentally hit the guardrail on her bed while sleeping or something similar. Grandma didn't really care how she got the bruise, she just wanted to know how she could use it to her advantage. At 4:30 p.m., her physical therapist arrived. She had been trying to talk me out of making her go to therapy all day, so I was pretty surprised to see her leave without a fight. Twenty minutes later she's back, in tears. "What happened?!" I asked. The therapist explained that her arm hurt and he thought she needed a break so her bruise could heal. As he walks out the door, grandma winks at me. "Does your arm really hurt?" I asked. She just laughs, "I didn't do any therapy today."

• I may have mentioned how much my grandma loves to go to the bathroom, but the bathroom is absolutely not funny. If you so much as look at her the wrong way near the bathroom, you're done. Yesterday, Mimi stopped by for a visit after work. This was the same time grandma decided to become super man and fly to the bathroom like a bat out of hell. Mimi must have been astonished by grandma's new found strength and determination because she was kind of staring. The staring didn't last long and she turned to the TV where there was a two-legged dog hopping around a stage. Of course this would be on TV right now and of course, it was funny. Mimi laughed. She turned back to look and grandma and was met with this gem..."YOU WANT SOME GLASSES SO YOU CAN SEE ME BETTER?! ....IT'S NOT FUNNY!" I turned to grandma and whispered, "don't be so mean to Mimi. She's not laughing at you." Again, she responds with a laugh, "I know...I'm just joking around" and she starts singing "hooo hoooo hoooooooo....haaaa haaa haaaaaa...heee heee heeeeeeeee."

So let this be a lesson to you: Grandma always gets the last laugh.

Catheter Crisis 2010: The Continuation

Before I arrived for my afternoon hospital visit, my mom informed me that she had an explanation for Catheter Crisis 2010. Before I explain the situation, I'd like to once again point out that my mom is a nurse and I have nothing but respect for nurses. They make the world go round, blah, blah blah. Anyway, the nurse informed my mom that she put the catheter in so she wouldn't have to take my grandma to the bathroom during her shift. She literally said "it's a matter of convenience." I think she's confused. I take grandma to the bathroom and the catheter is inconvenient. Let me explain.

Grandma was happy as a clam this afternoon. She was sitting in her chair smiling, having a ball. I haven't seen her look this good since we left the nursing home and I was thrilled. Then she had to go to the bathroom. Here's the problem: just because your nurse has been blessed with a catheter and installs it in your vagina, it doesn't mean you stop having the urge to pee. Furthermore, a 91 year-old woman who has never seen a computer and hates Dr. Oz is not going to understand how a catheter operates. She wanted to use the toilet. Like a grown up, human being.

"I have to go to the bathroom," grandma said. "Megan, you can take me, OK?"

"Do you have to poop?" I reply, knowing that if she has to poop we can go to the bathroom, but nothing is going to happen if she just has to pee. She says she doesn't have to poop and I explain that unless she has to poop, the catheter will take care of the pee for her.

"So I just sit here any pee my pants?! If I pee my pants, you have to tell the nurse why you didn't take me to the bathroom. I don't want to pee my pants!!" At this point she's yelling at me and turning red. I completely understand as I also would not want to pee my pants.

I don't know how many times I explained how the catheter works. I even drew a picture of a stick figure with a tube in her bladder.

"Why does the stick person have three legs?" she said when she saw my picture.

"It's not legs...it's a tube that is inside your bladder," I replied. "It sucks the pee out like a drain."

"OK fine. I want to go to the bathroom."

Fantastic. A nurse came in and did some explaining about the catheter. It wasn't very helpful, but she gets points for trying. When she left, grandma relaxed and I thought we were in the clear. Maybe I could get her in bed in time for Jeopardy.

Suddenly, I look over and she's rocketing out of her chair screaming, "I HAVE TO POOP NOW!!!!"

So I leap over the bed and run to grab her before she falls on the floor and starts shitting in the air, Miss Vivian style. I've never seen grandma move so fast. She was practically running for the bathroom and threw herself on the toilet just in time for the loudest fart I have ever heard. I'm certain I have suffered irreparable hearing damage from that sonic boom.

"Nurse Catheter is toast..." I think to myself as I'm getting grandma cleaned up and back into bed.

I just can't see the convenience in this whole catheter situation.

Catheter Crisis 2010

Since I started taking care of my grandma, I've learned there is a lot that I cannot do. My mom is a registered nurse, so she pretty much takes the lead on everything important. She talks to doctors, nurses, physical therapists and case managers. She makes my schedule and orders me around. She is the head honcho. What do I do? I take grandma to the bathroom.

Assisting my grandma in the bathroom is my number one responsibility. Not to toot my own horn, but the bathroom is a pretty critical part in her recovery. You see, for whatever reason, some insane doctor invented this ridiculous device. I guess it has it's uses, but besides making nurses lives a little easier, I fail to see the actual purpose for a catheter.

After you've lived with a catheter, it's pretty tough to determine when you have to go to the bathroom and accidents happen. Not really a big deal unless you are trying to get someone rehabilitated enough to go home without one.

It took us weeks of hard work (mostly on my mom's part) to get my grandma back to normal after the first catheter. She knows when she has to go to the bathroom, she goes and she's fine. But someone decided they knew better and re-installed the catheter.

Someone crossed the line. Someone decided to interfere with my responsibilities. Someone thinks they can handle the bathroom situation better than I can handle it. I think not.

Mom and I are pissed (pun intended). I'm going to get to the bottom of this...stay tuned.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Actual Date: October 3, 2010

If you are going to spend any amount of time with the elderly, you must understand the importance of hearing aids.


This is a picture of a hearing aid similar to the buzzing device that resides in my grandma's ear. The same device that threatened my sanity today.

It was pretty stressful when we checked into the hospital. You have to tell the same story to at least three thousand health care workers and then tell it to grandma another three thousand times to make sure she understands everything. Personally, I think grandma just kept asking us what was going on for entertainment. Hospitals are beyond boring. Anyway, the stress of the entire situation led to something more horrifying to an old person than anything on the face of the Earth. I was not present for the incident, but here is what I know.

Grandma's left hearing aid made a daring escape. Somehow, the little nugget wriggled out of her ear and landed on the floor. Just as it was rolling for the exit, my aunt took a step in the wrong direction and....CRUNCH. Goodbye, hearing aid.

Grandma is devastated, but luckily the right hearing aid was in place and working...until today.

I was having a great day. I had prepped some delicious crab cakes, ran a few miles and relaxed before my afternoon visit. I needed some me time after yesterday's drama. So I waltzed in to the hospital feeling good and ready to spend some quality time with her majesty.

I walked in to an inferno. Grandma keeps her hearing aids on at all times. As she says...she likes to hear everything. Do not think for a second that whispering a secret will get past this woman. She knows a lot more than she's letting on...I'm certain. Unfortunately, keeping your hearing aid in at all times causes the batteries to die exceptionally fast. In the haste of getting her into the hospital, no one thought "Hey, I guess I should grab some extra hearing aid batteries." No one thinks that. You're supposed to think "Oh shit, I have to go to the hospital now!!" So at this point, grandma has no functioning hearing aids. Crisis. Please alert the United Nations.

Grandma didn't seem to comprehend that we didn't have a fully supply of batteries on standby.

"I can't hear a thing! Where are the batteries?! Oh God, oh God....shit," she exclaimed. It's her usual repertoire for the imperfect situations we seem to find ourselves in constantly.

When this starts, I have two choices: start problem solving or drown myself in the commode. Well, she had just gone to the bathroom so I decided I should try to solve the problem.

I deploy Mimi to Publix in search of a hearing aid battery. There are literally no words to describe the drama that ensued. Between trying to figure out what kind of battery the hearing aid needs to calming grandma, I was starting to think drowning in the commode was probably the right decision all along.

Mimi prevailed and the hearing aid battery was successfully replaced. All was right in the world...and what did grandma have to say? "I have to go to the bathroom."

Desperate Measures

Actual Date: October 2, 2010

Grandma checked-in to the hospital yesterday for congestive heart failure and pneumonia. It sounds grim, but this stubborn Irish woman is not going down so easily. She's much better now and I'm sure we'll take her back to the nursing home soon, which means she'll also head home pretty soon.

Anyway, our new surroundings are pretty chic. Of course, a new environment also brings challenges.

The room is significantly larger; thereby, improving my quality of life. We also have a fabulous TV. Unfortunately, I can't seem to understand why the hospital only has 40 channels and my grandma's refusal to watch any of them. The quality of food has also increased and I'm confident I can identify everything on her plate. This matters not to my once ravenous patient as she now finds food to be quite the annoyance.

A wonderful plate of spaghetti arrived this evening. I worked hard to convince grandma it was worth a taste. And by working hard I mean I told her the doctor said if she didn't eat spaghetti and meatballs, he would purée it and send it through her veins intravenously. Whatever works, right?

Well, what failed to work was the fancy, three-story tray she is supposed to eat from. As I struggle to get the tray positioned to her majesty's standards, I'm barraged with verbal abuse.

"Oh dear God, help me. God, oh God, shit," she yells.

After enduring fifteen versions if the above repertoire, I was about to lose my shit. Not only was I proving incapable of handling a rolling tray, but I was also being screamed at as if I was a murderer from which she needed protection. It's a tray full of spaghetti and I'm a normal, capable adult, goddammit! I grab a to-go box filled with angel food cake, throw the cake away and fill the box with spaghetti.

"What do I do with this?!"

"You eat it," I explain in a voice teetering on the edge of madness.

Slowly she begins to eat. Meanwhile she's glaring at me and I begin to wonder if she has fastened some sort of prison shank in her bed.

She eats one box full of spaghetti and demands I remove the tray immediately. After determining it was safe to approach, I cleaned up and sat down. That is when I realized I had to pee.

I actually knew I had to pee about three hours earlier, but was so busy I seemed to have forgot. The situation was becoming dire and I decided to get up and search for a restroom. As I sped down the hall, I spotted my grandma's doctor.

We had been told he would stop in sometime that evening for an update. No one was in the room with my grandma and I was sure he was heading down the hall to see her. Now what do I do?! I can run to the bathroom and miss the doctor's evaluation, or run back to the room and pray I don't just pee my pants.

Weighing the pros and cons, I figured I'd probably get yelled at by my mom if I missed the evaluation and that was worse than peeing my pants, so I turned around and went back in the room. I sat back on the couch, crossed my legs and prayed.

"Where is this guy?!" I think to myself. "I just saw him in the hall...there's only a few rooms in this unit...he's got to be here soon."

A five minute wait turns into ten minutes. I decide to hunt him down. Just as I exit my grandma's room, I see Dr. Bald Dude on the computer.

"OK...he's probably reviewing her chart. No big deal. I can wait five more minutes...I think..."

Another ten minutes passes and Bald, M.D. is no where in sight. I'm wiggling like a maniac to keep myself from peeing. If he had come in at this point, I'm sure I would have been admitted to the psych ward.

Five more minutes....I could actually feel my belly bloating...I was literally on the verge of peeing my pants. Again, here I am...an otherwise normally functioning adult about to lose my shit (or piss) in this hospital. Get it together!

Suddenly, there's a rustling at the door and I see my aunt struggling to put on her MRSA gown (you have to wear this silly yellow gown in the hospital until grandma is cleared for MRSA...big pain in the ass if you ask me).

Adrenalin rushed through me like never before as I sprinted past her screaming something to the effect of "BATHROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

I had never been so happy to see my aunt....and the doctor....well, he didn't show up that night.

Grandma's Got Jokes

Actual Date: September 30, 2010

Usually my afternoon shifts with grandma are fairly uneventful. We watch Judge Joe Brown and every edition of the evening news before bedtime. It's a thrill a minute.

Early in my shift, a nurse suggested grandma receive a shower. Grandma suggested the nurse "fuck off" (in so many words) and that pretty much set the tone for the rest of my day. A Xanax was certainly in order and grandma needed one too. About an hour later, my favorite lady was high as a kite and ready to party.

Now all of this may sound like you're typical nursing home experience. We all know old people can be cranky and like their pills, but today I learned they can also be hilarious.

After enjoying a plate of mystery meat, grandma started falling asleep. I tried to wake her several times and each time she pretended she hadn't been sleeping. One time, she picked up a noodle and started laughing like she had pierced a tiny clown on her fork.

Eventually, I suggested we get ready for bed and met the same demise as our shower nurse. However, my real punishment was to come later. I convinced her it was time to change and led her to the bathroom. While she was doing her business, she called for me to come in and help.

"What do you need grandma," I asked.

"I have to tell you a secret," she replied, giggling like a drunk sorority girl. "Come over here."

That's when it happened. Sweet,caring granddaughter leaned in close to hear the precious secret of her darling grandma...she farted. She FARTED in my face.

"Awesome. Hadn't heard that one before..." I replied as she began laughing.

Finally I manage to get the jokester in bed and clean up her room. Just as I collapse in the stiff guest chair, I look up and my grandma's roommate is stripping naked. Miss Vivian is feverishly taking her clothes off as her nurse demands, "Miss Vivian, stop! Keep your clothes on!" The old woman just laughs and laughs and strips some more.

And who said aging isn't fun?

This Only Happens to Me...

Actual Date: September 27, 2010

Today seemed like a good day to take the morning shift at the nursing home. When I walked into my grandma's room, I realized I had made a terrible mistake. Slowly, a strange burning smell started creeping our way. I saw a fire truck outside and assumed something in the kitchen was burning or maybe an idiot student nurse lit a match near an oxygen tank. No big deal, but the smell kept getting worse. I started to walk out of the room to ask the nurses what was going on when I realized it was not fire, it was shit. The woman in the bed next to my grandma was on her stomach shitting into the sky. It was like the Fountains of Bellagio of Shit or The Mirage Shit Volcano.

Luckily, the physical therapist came to take my grandma for her workout and I bolted. I was so happy to be in my car and away from the flying, smelly shit fountain of a woman. I was just taking a swig of water to clear the shit from my throat when I noticed a speed trap. Luckily, I was driving the speed limit so I just pushed on thinking I was innocent. Again, I was wrong. The cop walked right out in front of my car and demanded I pull over. Now I'm pissed. The cop asks, "don't you know you're supposed to change lanes for emergency vehicles?" Yes, I know this rule, but something in me says the City of Orlando's speed trap does not qualify as an emergency.

"I didn't realize I didn't to pull over for a speed trap," I replied. The cop was not pleased and demanded to see my license. Despite what you may think, I'm actually much smarter than I look. "I'm sorry, I forgot my wallet at home and I was just running back home to get it. I was visiting my grandma at the nursing home around the corner. Look, I'm sorry for being a smart ass, but I'm from Nevada and I just moved here. There's no law about pulling over for cops in Nevada. You only have to pull over for ambulances and fire trucks." I have no idea if this is true and I'm also pretty sure you have to pull over for cops in Nevada, so I was just crossing my fingers this guy also had not moved from Las Vegas a few weeks ago. I was taking my chances.

"Well you're in Florida now and this is the law. The ticket is $164 and three points on your license. I'm not going to give you a ticket because I don't want to look up your out-of-state plate. Pay attention and get out of here."

I got out of there alright and thanked Jesus he didn't notice my busted taillight.