This is...tough.

Taking care of Grandma is, simultaneously, the best and worst "job" I've ever had.

Some days, she's docile and sweet. Her memory is hit or miss, but generally good. She stays awake and tries to interact with the people around her. She eats well. She lets me know when she needs something. She does her therapy without complaint and tries to help me when I'm assisting her by following my instructions to the best of her ability. These days are good. These are the days when she's most herself, as I remember her before the dementia rattled her brain.

Other days, she's grumpy and even mean. Her memory is hit or miss, but generally bad. She sometimes sleeps all day, and I'm unable to wake her even to take a single sip of water, much less eat a meal. She doesn't interact with anyone who is actually in the room, but has vivid conversations with people who have long been dead. She has hallucinations of rather terrifying things. She yells and screams during her therapy as though I'm abusing her. She's dead weight when I try to lift her from her wheel chair to the toilet, her recliner, or her bed. She cries at the drop of a hat and can't tell me why. She becomes a two year old in the body of a 96 year old woman. These days are incredibly draining, both physically and emotionally.

I was fairly prepared for the physical side of this thing. I knew I'd be doing a lot of lifting. I knew that she'd get progressively weaker, and that therefore, the weight would fall more on me.

I was prepared mentally to deal with her disease. I knew that her memory would spiral down. I knew that she'd be depressed sometimes. I knew that she wouldn't always know me. I knew that she wouldn't always know where she was.

What I wasn't prepared for, even though I *knew* it would tough, was the emotional side of it all. All the things that my head knew, my heart had refused to admit. So when she looks at me and sees a stranger, or when the slightest touch makes her scream that I'm intentionally injuring her, or when she tells me to shut up and leave her alone...that hurts. I do my best to have my head tell my heart that it isn't really my Grandma saying those things, and that really, she knows that I'm only trying to help her...that when she does get hurt at my hands, it is because I'm having to prevent a greater injury. But when she has several bad days, all crammed together, she gets exponentially worse by the day, and my brain can't keep up with the speed at which my heart gets hurt.

So, if you read this, please say a prayer that Jesus will give me the supernatural strength and peace that Grandma needs me to have. I love her and I don't want for this to become too much. I don't want her to have to be in a nursing home, where they'll leave her to sleep except at meal times, and never try to exercise her or interact with her. She's better off at home, as long as we can handle her care.

I'm so thankful for my friends here...for Caitlin, who is in my home nearly every day and sees for herself what goes on, so I know I'm not crazy, and who reminds my parents that I need a break every once in a while. For Angela, who listens when I break down and vent, and who occasionally accompanies me out shopping or on a quick food run, just to be out of the house for a few minutes from time to time. For Covenant, whose many members ask me how things are going and remind me that they're praying for Grandma and me. For my barista friends at Midnight Oil: Graham, Kristen, and Becca, who provide a wonderful respite when I just need to escape the house for a little while. I cannot imagine doing this without that kind of love in my life.

In spite of all the difficulties, though, I'm very glad to have this time with Grandma. On the good days, I have opportunities to draw stories out of her that I haven't heard before. I've asked her about meeting Granddaddy, about their first date, and about their wedding. I've asked about her father, who she rarely mentioned, and about her mother, who she talks of (and to...) frequently. She's told me the origins of some of the antiques we have sitting around the house. Soon, whenever she's in a good frame of mind, we're going to watch the movie that she and Granddaddy saw on their first date ("Blue Skies" from 1946). I'm blessed to be able to spend so much time with her. I just need help to remember in the hard times that the good, at least in the long run, will far outweigh the bad, no matter how hard it gets sometimes.