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Facing Dementia with a Sonny Disposition

My granddad, Sonny, back in the day. He's always cut a fine figure!

After a few months absence, I’m back in Belleville, Michigan. Or as I like to call it: The B. In case you missed my first post about The B, it’s a small town about 30 miles west of Detroit. So I guess that makes it The D’s country cousin.

Since last summer, I’ve been coming back here every two months or so to assist my granddad with my grandmother’s care and to help him out around the house. My grandmother was recently given an official diagnosis of dementia, devastating news since we’d been hoping her memory loss was the result of some new medications she’d been prescribed for other health issues and most of all, that it would be reversible. Instead, her decreased brain function is permanent. And it’s much worse now than it was when I was here in October.

A Grand Old Time

Whoever coined the phrase “kids say the darnedest things” got it wrong in my opinion. I think it’s old people who deserve this distinction. A few examples from my personal experience:

 

When I announced it was teatime and asked my grandparents if they would like to join me. My grandmother demurred but my granddad had a question. 

Him: Do you have crumpets?

Me (already amused): No, I don’t have any crumpets, Granddad. Anyway, do you even know what a crumpet is?

Him: No. But I know you're supposed to have them with tea.

 

When I walked into my grandmother’s bedroom and she gave me a strange look (not an uncommon occurrence these days since she has dementia).

Me: How are you feeling, Grandmother?

Her: You have hips.