I'm just big boned

"Are you getting fat? You look like you're getting fat. You're not getting fat, are you?"

"No, Grandmom, I'm not GETTING fat, I've been fat for about 2 1/2 years, now."

"Well, stop it, because you don't want to get fat."

"Ok, thanks, Grandmom... I'll be sure to work on that."

"Good, now eat! I made all this pasta and meatballs just for you."

My Grandmother... she's a trip, boy.

My Grandmother is not an old lady. She's 83 and still over 6' tall with thick, Platinum blond hair and roots as dark as tar with not a single grey hair to be seen. She dresses better than I do. (not that this is saying much, but still) She is also currently caring for her (considerably younger) husband, A who unfortunately, has Alzheimer's and is likely to spend the remainder of his days in a bed, in their living room.

In case you were wondering, there are no warm-fuzzies-lost for me with my Grandmother. She's not the most compassionate person in the world... The thought of her caring for her own 4 children baffles me, completely. Imagining her changing adult diapers and assisting with the general care and well-being of her husband is just impossible.

While Zane and I were there, she insisted on moving to the kitchen so we could have tea. A was sleeping so, it was only natural to let him sleep quietly by moving to another room. Eventually, he woke up and called for her. She rolled her eyes and said, he doesn't want anything, just ignore him. Of course, I just couldn't. But, ever one to avoid confrontation, I didn't let on how I really felt about her treatment of him. Instead, I played it off as if I was following Zane into the LR, where I found my son, laughing and singing, blowing kisses, and playing with A over the rail on his rented hospital bed. (Oh, how I love that child)

I asked if he wanted something to eat or drink. He said, yes. He was thirsty, so with my GM's permission, I mixed up a tall glass of Iced Tea with a bit of Thick It and brought it out to him. He drank the entire glass, while his adoring wife grumbled that she would soon see it coming out the other end, and SHE was the one who would have to change the diaper, etc, etc...

Now, I know I'm being a judgmental asshole. I know it. I know that living with someone in this sort of arrangement can cause great resentment and hardship for the caregiver, if they don't receive the proper counseling. I also know that its easy for me to swoop in, one or two days out of a year and look down my nose while I easily tend to his needs. But for the life of me, I just can't help but think that this is such a bad idea. As horrible as it is, I have to think that he would receive better care in a home. and, I know of which I speak, believe me.

His daughter will be coming to visit next week. She's a nurse and should be well-equipped to decide where her father should spend the remainder of his days. This eases my mind a bit, but my heart is still heavy.