by Lauren Ice

Created on: May 03, 2009   Last Updated: May 07, 2009

"She's called an ambulance again," was what my Father told me when he called me in early December. This was not surprising as she had called ambulances every day for the last two weeks. She is my Grandmother, and she has Alzheimer's disease. Until last December she had been living alone, driving around town, and taking care of herself. Then she began to change. Anxiety over a "stomach condition" that not one doctor could diagnose, forgetting her medication, not caring about hygiene, and being just down right mean sometimes were our first clues that something was amiss.

After many trips to the emergency room, she was finally admitted. Not for her mysterious stomach pain, but her mental status. She stayed in a geriatric psychiatric ward for weeks, and then the time came, to decide where she would go now. Our family is small and a nursing home did not seem suitable yet. So after deliberation I was called upon to care for her. I am the youngest, 25, and newly married, but I had experience in caring for people who had emotional and behavioral problems, so I was put on the front lines.

The first few days seemed to go O.K., she would forget daily that she lived here now and that this was not just a vacation. I had researched the disease and knew that she would ask the same questions over and over again, but after a week of it, I did not know how I could go on. I came home every night stressed out, wanting the solace of my quiet bedroom, some peace from watching The Weather Channel. Instead I got the incessant noise of video games and innocent questions about how my day went. I was frustrated with everyone and needed a hug, but wanted pure isolation.

As is often true with Alzheimer's you never knew which Grandma was going to wake up today. Maybe it would be happy Grandma who wanted to go shopping, or it could be "I-want-to-go-home-now" angry Grandma. One night I came home in tears after my Grandma had gone off on a tangent about me keeping her hostage and how much she hated me. I walked through the door and my Husband looked at me and just knew. He hugged me in complete silence. He did not ask me any questions or offer any unsolicited advice. As I stood there crying, he just hugged me tighter. Eventually he let go and switched off the T.V. and turned towards me, all in silence. I exploded. I told him about the mood swings and the hateful things she might say, and how in an hour she would forget so I could not be mad at her, but that it's hard to be mad at a disease. I

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