Dinner time with Grandma

I sat by my Grandma last night to watch her eat... I walked into the continuous care unit of the hospital, said HI, and then sat by her as she ate dinner. Normally this would be no big deal. To others who have been doing things such as this, it probably isn't either. To me, it was.

Did you know there are companies that make "Honey Consistancy" foods and drinks? I didn't. It does, however, make sense. BRILLIANT Sense!!

You see the stroke affected her throat muscles, or her swallow reflex, or her memory of how to use her body!? I'm not sure what actually happened... but now she is slowly gaining that function back. It still takes time to enable the muscles to work properly and therefore she needs all of her foods and fluids to be at a consistency that is easy to handle. (But not so easy that the food slides down her throat -and into her lungs- before her brain acknowledges that she has put it in her mouth.) Hence, Honey consistency.

The Hormel Corp created one of the prepackaged drinks. Yes, even my Grandma's water was prepared to this viscosity, as was her Cranberry Juice Cocktail. The strangest liquid was that of her "coffee." I use that term loosely. The nurse brought in a cup of hot water, then added a powered substance - like that of hot cocoa. The she swirled it around until it formed some ewwy substance. Then added creamer! I suppose it smelled like coffee.

That said, and still as I am marvelling at this new-to-me world of patient care, my Grandma begins to feed herself. YAY! Triumph of triumphs... She has progressed so much since my last visit. We chat some. All the while, I am cautious of how much I should distract her... She is still far from the strong-willed and hilariously funny woman I have known.

Without having to bore you, dear reader, with the smallest details... the visit was eye opening. I met her roommate, a woman my Grandma barely acknowledges (much like my Grandpa acted during his hospital "incarceration"). The roomie was pleasant enough. On my Grandma's behalf, I'm not sure she could see this other person or barely hear her at times... I can't tell which eye is her "good" one and for all I know, this roomie "Betty" was always in a bad spot to be seen. ?! So it stands to reason that it would be weird to try to talk to someone you can't see or hear well enough to give a damn what said 'blurry-garbled-sounding thing' said. :)

My Grandma's voice is deeper. Her sense of humor is deep down inside somewhere, itching to get out. This I can feel. This I pray about. Her sarcasm still reigns supreme, just a bit slower.

We tried to watch Jeopardy.

I struggled with my insane need to wipe her mouth and my unending desire for her to do it on her own. I hope I found a good balance for the time.

I learned about the common need for technologies that make food and drink - human necessities - available to those in needful circumstances.

As I left last night (after making sure she had waited to proper length of time before getting back to bed), I told her I loved her. And she told me that she hoped she wouldn't spend the rest of her life "like this." Containing my emotions as best I could, I told her to stay positive and realize how far she has come. She can do this... she can recover. I could also see a bit of the internal struggle she must face everyday... fight? or flight? Which is best for her?

Either decision is tough...

If you ask my sister, the outcome is the same no matter the course.

I can't even fathom how I could look at this if it were me. I suppose that is where faith comes into play... Where, exactly, I place my faith? I'm still figuring out that one.