(no subject)

[pen_grunt]

I've been trying to compartmentalize and sum up a lot of thoughts lately. My grandfather died Friday, and I've wanted to say a lot about the way Alzheimer's affects people--particularly the family around the person with the disease.

But I just haven't been able to. I keep making light of the situation, and it's all okay, really. If anyone has known anyone with Alzheimers, you know that it's a double-death. The person you know dies first, then the body. So in a way, my mourning has been done for a while.

That explains why I blurted out (nearly to myself, but not quite), "Bring out yer dead" as they came to pick up the body at the nursing home.

It explains why we all laughed hysterically when my mom called for pickup OUTSIDE in the hall, within earshot of all the other residents instead of in the room. Way to give 'em the old pep-talk ma.

It explains why, when my mom told me who would be singing at the funeral (a family friend with Alzheimer's--which they thought would be a particularly fitting tribute), I suggested that they populate the funeral entirely with Alzheimer's patients. You know, just to see what would happen. :)

I'm a smart ass. I deal with humor, I think.

Comments

[gloomchen.livejournal.com]

I had a similar death-process when my great-grandmother died of cancer. I did almost all of my grieving when we were told it was terminal and that she wouldn't be getting chemo anymore. After that was just the slow process of hoping she'd wake up dead to end her suffering. By the time THAT finally happened, it felt more like a time to celebrate than to grieve.

[eyelid.livejournal.com]

My grandma didn't have Alzheimer's, but she had a number of serious illnesses (serious heart problems, kidney failure, etc) that made her life basically misery for about two years before her death. When a person dies after a long illness like that it's much more like a blessing. I remember a few days before my grandma died, we were all w/her for thanksgiving, and she decided to go off dialysis. She asked me what I thought about that.

"I just want you to be happy," I said.
"That's right," she said, "and I'll be happy when I'm dead."

I was very close with my grandmother, but her passing was infinitely easier for me and the rest of the family than the unexpected death of my sister.

[liquid-siftings.livejournal.com]

My maternal grandmother had Alzheimer's, and your "double-death" comment is absolutely right. I am not proud of it, but it got to the point I couldn't go see her because I couldn't keep it together for more than a few minutes. Humor is not so bad an option.

[llythefaerye.livejournal.com]

*****Hugs****** Yes, it's very true and - as always for you - very aptly put. Our immediate family went though much the same thing with Granny, and there are striking similarities with the stroke on Grandpa Penna's side . . .

Humor is a normal and even a good thing . . . because, quite frankly, after all that . . . you just need something - anything - to laugh at, no matter how morbid it may seem or you may think it seems to others outside the situation. It's also something that brings people together in a time when we need that closeness the most.

I like to believe that they would prefer to look down and see us laughing, even with tears in our eyes.