Well That Was Frustrating ... And Sad

So as I've said many times before, the main reason I went to Hong Kong was to see Grandmother.  I needed to say how well she was doing ... or wasn't doing.  Speaking for 15 seconds long-distance over the phone wasn't going to cut it anymore, especially if ... well, if things are winding down with her.

I was able to see her four times.  Only the first time did I know for sure she knew who I was.  There were two days where she carried on conversations with a tone that made me thing she knew who I was, but I wasn't sure.  One day she looked at me blankly.  There were times where she looked haggard and disconsolate; then she barely spoke to me and even looked like she was barely there.  However, in the times she seemed alert she seemed extremely anxious.  That is when she went back to how she was late in her time at home and at the nursing home -- asking the same questions, over and over, about information she should already know, like where in the United States she used to live, or what my name was.

Just called her now.  I didn't have to fight off those questions while I was on the phone before I saw her.  But in the first call I've had with her since returning as well as the longest call I have had with her, she did not just answer my regular question of, "Are you OK?"  She asked me who I was.  Then she asked me who she was, which is an extremely sad change.  And then she asked those questions over and over and over.  Grandmother didn't know who either of us was.  Is that a symptom of Alzheimer's?

Even though I felt assured that she seemed to be in good physical health, it was frustrating and sad that her mind is going.  The anxiety is one thing, the forgetfulness another.  But with Grandmother (and maybe with other old people hobbled like this, I don't know) consistently losing the basic information I told her minutes before, and then her feeling the need to ask me those questions again, was a blindside of aggravation and despondency for me.  I don't know how to react to someone who is slowly slipping away from me.  I can't have polite and easy conversations with her anymore.

But I have a sneaking suspicion about myself ... that a "normal" person would be much ... uh, sadder than I am now.  While I was trying to speak to her just now I kept thinking that another person in my position would be crying.  I am not.  Why is that?  Is it me?  Possibly.  Is it that I think she's in good hands with the nanny, who is a paragon of patience?  A lot of it is that.  Is it because her son and daughter-in-law are "taking care of it?"  That counts for a lot, too.

But I have to confess something: Ever since she started going backshit crazy on the family her last few months at home, continually asking me where did I take her money and shit like that, I kind of knew she was a goner.  With my fatalistic personality, a part of me thought Grandmother was already dead.  So, in a sense, I have sort of been saying goodbye to her the past several years.  This fucking goddamn phone call was just affirmation of my long farewell to her as she fades into the shadows of her dementia.

I feel obligated to try calling her again, but if all that's going to happen is shit like this, honestly, I don't even know if I should bother.  That might make me an asshole.  But I would be wasting my time with a human being who isn't Grandmother.  I truly believe that.