Friday, April 14, 2006
We went to visit "Nanny Windows" as she seems to be known now, my 95year old grandmother.
It's such an arduous train journey with three kids, but it's worth it to see her face light up when Tea talks to her for the first time ever really. He's suddenly become quite fluent.
Last night I felt so very sad though. Such impressive old age is really taking its toll. She can't straighten up now, when she gets up, and getting out of her chair itself is really hard. Her paper thin skin is reddish pink and really shiney, and she'd cut a huge hole out of her slipper to accomodate her ingrowing toenail, they stopped doing her feet on the NHS a couple of years ago apparently.
There is a tray on the fridge on which all her daily medications are somewhat chaotically placed.
She hobbles around valiently, but I noticed her being really unusually clumsy in the kitchen, worryingly so, as she makes the lunch. I try to help but she's having none of it.
She serves sausages, chips, peas cooked with a teaspoon of sugar, and strawberries and an enormous party sized gateux from Iceland for pudding, and the kids love it.
Everyone eats everything off their plates, which makes her very happy.
I managed to get the washing up done though, by saying I wouldn't leave until it was done. She let me, but insisted on drying them herself instead of sitting with the kids in the other room.
She used to pride herself on her housekeepeing, in fact judge other women by it mercilessly, but I noticed how dirty all her cupboards were, and I wanted to empty them and wash them out for her, but this idea outraged her, she's so fiercely independent.
She still had plenty of energy to give me her views on why the country had gone to the dogs, and delivered a lengthy monologue on immigration...
As we left I hugged her tightly, and she me.
I breathed in deeply her scent, and for a moment was transported right back to my childhood, she still smelled the same. My nan, my carer, my love.
It's such an arduous train journey with three kids, but it's worth it to see her face light up when Tea talks to her for the first time ever really. He's suddenly become quite fluent.
Last night I felt so very sad though. Such impressive old age is really taking its toll. She can't straighten up now, when she gets up, and getting out of her chair itself is really hard. Her paper thin skin is reddish pink and really shiney, and she'd cut a huge hole out of her slipper to accomodate her ingrowing toenail, they stopped doing her feet on the NHS a couple of years ago apparently.
There is a tray on the fridge on which all her daily medications are somewhat chaotically placed.
She hobbles around valiently, but I noticed her being really unusually clumsy in the kitchen, worryingly so, as she makes the lunch. I try to help but she's having none of it.
She serves sausages, chips, peas cooked with a teaspoon of sugar, and strawberries and an enormous party sized gateux from Iceland for pudding, and the kids love it.
Everyone eats everything off their plates, which makes her very happy.
I managed to get the washing up done though, by saying I wouldn't leave until it was done. She let me, but insisted on drying them herself instead of sitting with the kids in the other room.
She used to pride herself on her housekeepeing, in fact judge other women by it mercilessly, but I noticed how dirty all her cupboards were, and I wanted to empty them and wash them out for her, but this idea outraged her, she's so fiercely independent.
She still had plenty of energy to give me her views on why the country had gone to the dogs, and delivered a lengthy monologue on immigration...
As we left I hugged her tightly, and she me.
I breathed in deeply her scent, and for a moment was transported right back to my childhood, she still smelled the same. My nan, my carer, my love.
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