Transcript of a conversation I had with my grandfather today while he was supposed to be taking a nap.
We were talking about his leg. He once again forgot that he had broken it.
Grandpa: I want to change the subject. There is a boy playing outside. I want to know if he (mumble mumble) causing trouble or (mumble mumble mumble)"
No one is outside, but I humor him.
Me: "I don't think he's a troublemaker."
Grandpa: "Well good."
He briefly falls asleep.
Grandpa: "I haven't told you about the boy yet. There's one boy playing in your yard, and another one playing..." he waves hand around, "around here some."
Another brief sleep.
Grandpa: "Do you have a description for any work that any one of these boys were making for you?"
Me: "I wasn't aware that any boys were making things for me."
Grandpa: "Okay. Are these boys high school age?"
Me: "Yeah, they might be."
Grandpa: "These boys (mumble mumble mumble...)"
He starts grabbing at his leg.
Grandpa: "This is quite painful. I don't think I can just go around in a jar-chair. There are boys with pain in his ear. He's doing something out here."
An aide walks in to clean his room.
Aide: "Hi Mr. Roscoe!"
Grandpa: "Oh hi! I want to talk to mumble mumble Billy."
Aide: "You want to talk to who?"
Grandpa: "I want to talk to you." He points at me. Lots of incoherent mumbling. "... if they were engaged in a contract of sorts."
She and I have a short conversation. He speaks up.
Grandpa: "I will have to push the meeting to a later date."
he sleeps again, she leaves.
Grandpa: "Is mile in middle size or soul soup?"
He picks his nose and falls asleep again.
Grandpa: "I mentioned a young man who's age might be around 17, 18. Who is that young man?"
Me: "I'm not sure. You mentioned high school boys trying to make things."
Grandpa: "Tall boy according to me."
Me: "Could you tell me more about these boys?"
Grandpa: "I haven't. I'm trying to make some message of my own. What are the ages of the young boys playing in the yard?"
Me: "I think you said 17 or 18."
Grandpa: "Oh. Thats just a couple years younger than you."
Me: "Yeah, that's younger than me."
Grandpa: "You're approaching high school."
Me: "I already graduated from high school."
Grandpa: "MY GOODNESS. When did you graduate high school?"
Me: "About 5 years ago."
Grandpa: "My lord! I don't believe it."
Grandpa: "Those boys are talking to each other about 'you'll be young.'"
I start to say something and he interrupts me.
Grandpa: "That's okay, they can say that."
Grandpa: "We have young boys in our homes, spending time with our children. That's alright."
Grandpa: "What's your name?"
Me: "My name's Taylor."
Grandpa: "Oh. Tay-lor. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be in your business."
Me: "That's okay. Names are important."
Grandpa: "I've been a long time a young man at home with a young girl. Nothing wrong with either of those. Young men and young ladies are rarely acquainted in this area."
He falls asleep again.
Grandpa: "Is that only dog and cat terms for the animals?"
Me: "Depends on what animals you're talking about."
Grandpa: "Do you think the two children..."
I cant hear what he says next so I ask him to repeat himself.
Grandpa: "I was thinking first where feelings for one another and mumble mumble mumble might fall."
Me: "What might fall?"
Grandpa: "I don't know what you said."
Me: "Never mind, then. I'm sorry."
Grandpa: "What might fall... I don't think that's old enough for the two children. You actually might be learning who your grandparents are, and who trains to be your granddaughter."
GrandpaL "I'm grateful to you both for thinking about the future and about your schoolwork getting attention in a way. And..."
he dozes off.
My Grandpa’s Keeper
My 94-year-old grandfather fell, broke his leg, and had surgery about a week ago. I’ve been helping watch him. Between the anesthesia, morphine, and preexisting dementia, things have ranged from hilarious to absolutely surreal. Highlights include:
- Crawling out of bed, taking his clothes off, and falling asleep on the floor
- Claiming that the previous incident was actually the nurses hog-tying him and throwing him under the bed.
- Apparently I married a cat.
- Conducting an imaginary board meeting while holding an invisible microphone. Twice.
- Thinking that his catheter was actually cigarettes hidden in his penis. Then wanting to know what brand they were and if he could smoke them (he hasn’t smoked since the 80’s)
- Having a tantrum because we’re all crazy and there is NO POSSIBLE WAY his leg could be broken.
- Unprovoked, informing a nurse “I’m straight and so is my niece,” as he pointed to me. (He has no idea that I’m a lesbian.)
- Taking off his shirt exclaiming, “Looks like a lot of people in candy clubs today!”
- Becoming incredibly distressed that his pants had pockets and then trying to open all the “pockets” in his sheet.
- Thinking that a woman and her brother “pulled a trick” that castrated him and left a rubber band on his penis. All attempts to tell him that it was just the catheter failed. I had to summon a nurse and all three of us had a long look to prove that his family jewels were still intact and there was no rubber band.
After days of this I’m not sure what’s real anymore.