She seemed fine when I came back home for dinner with the chicken My Father wanted me to buy because it was Chicken Mondays. Grandmother seemed hyper on account of her sundowning, but she was alert and aware, and she was able to help me out with toasting bread to eat with my chicken. I was going out to work out, and she asked me to buy something for her to eat before I come back home. This is the third time this week she wanted me to do that. It's probably because she wanted to eat something hot without warming something up in the microwave and risk My Father's wrath. Nonetheless, it's something weird that I have to keep track of.
When I come back home, Grandmother's lying on her bed. All I did was put the sandwich right next to her on her nightstand when she asks me, once again: "I can't find my checkbook. Where did you put it?"
And this is where I could have remembered that this is not My Grandmother talking but her disease, or her fear, or her trepidation over the circumstances and environment changing around her. But I chose to respond with some anger: "What do you mean I took it?! I didn't take it! I helped you find it this morning. You put it somewhere!!!"
And so began an argument where I didn't quite understand what she was saying because she speaking Chinese words I didn't know. She may have been speaking lucidly, situation excepting. But what I gleaned from her arguing was that she doesn't know where her money went and that she hadn't gone out to spend any money at all -- both lies. Is she saying that just to defend herself, or does she really believe she hasn't done anything and that I'm stealing money from her?
After about a minute of a back-and-forth that was as loud as I've ever spoken at her, she said she didn't want to argue anymore because her heart couldn't take it. So I told her, "Fine, you want to believe I took your checks, I took them," and since she seemed to be really panicking, I thought she needed to just go to sleep, so I turned off her nightlight. When I did she went off: "Don't do that, don't turn it -- WHY ARE YOU TURNING IT OFF???" But I walked away. She needs some help, I thought.
After stewing about it, I decided that I needed backup after this blow-up. I saw that Grandmother turned back on her light as I went downstairs. I rarely want to talk to my parents beyond dinner, but I knocked on their door and told them what had just happened and that she has been wanting me to find her checkbook for the past month now. They just chalked it up to her senility, though they both want her gone for a long time now.
I thought I blew off enough steam, so I went back to my room and forgot about it. After several minutes of watching TV, I hear Father stomp upstairs and, for the first time in a long time, go to Grandmother's room. I mute the TV to hear Grandmother start yet another argument with Father. She seemed to be saying the same things to him that she said to me -- she didn't spend any money, she doesn't know where it is, why would I take it. Then, silence.
So I turn back on the volume to watch late-night. And then I hear Grandmother from the hallway: "Sorry!" (Without knocking, like she didn't yesterday morning, when she just opened up the door and asked me for money because she didn't have any.) She was holding the purse where she always stores her five precious checkbooks. "This fell on the floor and went underneath the bed! I thought you took it!"
At the end of the hallway, Father was preening over Grandmother with this look of incredulity. She kept stammering on and trying to apologize. I put up my finger at her face and was about to say, "I love you, and I would never take money from you!" But Father stepped in and ordered her to her room: "Go to bed!" And she dutifully did, grinning and laughing all the way.
It was weird. Usually in the house it's Grandmother and I versus Father, with Mother being what could be called a sympathizer for Father. But for last night, Grandmother had been acting up and going after me. I am absolutely shocked -- still am shocked -- that she would betray me like that, even if it is the dementia. So last night, Father was on my side, and it felt good to have someone have my back in the face of such crazy accusations. I have to say, however, that wanting Father's approval after his judging me for so long was not part of my thinking.
Nevertheless, as Grandmother was retreating to her bedroom, I thanked Father for his help in stepping in and resolving this bizarre situation. He turned off the hallway light.
---
I don't know what to do with Grandmother. I had to wake up early to take Father to his biopsy. I took the car out of the garage, went back inside and waited at the bottom of the stairs, hoping Grandmother wouldn't talk to me.
But she was wandering upstairs. At the top, she asked me: "Are you going out?"
I didn't want to talk to her, so I gave her the silent treatment.
After a few seconds she went to her next question: "Before you leave, do you mind helping me give me my insulin shot?"
She can do it herself. And even if she couldn't, I didn't care. I needed her to know I was still upset with her. Maybe this will force her to remember.
Finally, she gave up. "OK then, here's the bag of garbage," as she left it at the top of the stairs and walked away. About a minute later Father came up from his bedroom. We left; I left the bag upstairs.
I drove back because the gas station was on the way. She left the bag outside.
We'll see how she is in 45 minutes, her doctor's visit.
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