One of the things that, I guess, indicates she doesn't have dementia is that she no longer complains that she is broke at the dinner table. Instead, she waits until dinner's over and my parents have scurried downstairs when she comes over (several times on this night) and asks for my help in calling her real son in Hong Kong and asking if he can send her more money. Unfortunately, she continues to forget that she needs a calling card, which I gave her, which she has subsequently lost.
Even worse is that she had this notepad and this corner of an international envelope with an address in her hands (obviously that of her real son), and on neither of them was her real son's phone number. It wouldn't do much good having a phone card if she doesn't have the number, of course. I tried communicating that she doesn't have his number, that I know she does have it and she needs to find it. But all she kept saying in this and the two subsequent knocks on my door that evening was something to the effect of, "I don't know, this has to be the number," "Can you dial the number with this ... this ... 'Garden?'" (that's the name of her son's street), or "Maybe I should talk to your Father about this." Does she not understand he wants to throw her out by any means necessary, and in fact that on this evening he was almost dreaming of telling her to get into the car so he can ship her off into the nursing home? Man, I don't want her to leave, but those are the evenings I'm so scared of her that I think that's best.
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She gave me some money to buy a card Wednesday night.
Well, the next night (after dinner) she came over to my room again. She had the landline wireless in her hand, so that meant she wanted to try calling her real son again. But when I reminded her that she still needed a card, she remembered that she gave me cash to buy a card for her.
She remembered! It's the small victories.
Moreover, she had the same small notepad in her hand. What was on it? Her real son's number? She found it! She found it!
Like I said, it's the small victories.
Anyway, we got Grandmother's real son that evening. He's sending money on a quick call that seemed to go over smoothly.
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Oh yeah, one other thing. Father told me last night that because he couldn't ship Grandmother off to the nursing home last week because he was doing surgery, the spot that was open for her was given to another person. For the time being, at least, she's staying.
It's the small victories.
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