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MIL Ru deep in.. prayer.

Dear Diary,

The minute I walked in I knew we had problems.. or I should say I— because YOU are reading this a safe distance away from the madness and mayhem thus able to laugh away without any reserve WHAT SO EVER. I on the other hand..took one look at my MIL Ru (dementia) sitting on the Happy Daze Assisted’s pee for all couch.. head down, eyes closed. LOST.. in reverent inner reflection and I’m not gonna LIE to you.. I got scared. Let’s face it, the LAST time I saw Ru pray..was like over a MONTH ago at Macys 50% day-o, ONE day only sale. We were in the midst of this TOTAL buying frenzy and there was this super cute knit wool cardi in pearl gray (Liz Claiborne) and we saw it in a size 6 but H-E-L-L-O.. reality. THAT wouldn’t fit over her left ankle. So we started to pray. Please almighty compassionate one in the heavens above.. let there be a size 18 in the back. Please. We promise to be good and do whatever we can for our fellow man (within reason). Just as we open our eyes..what to we behold? OMG. A size 18.. but WAIT A SECOND. That other lady with her hair still stinky from her chemical relax comes swooping in, followed by her clumsy sales girl with like twenty amazing sweaters that we must have missed from over in DENIMS and tries to TAKE it. No friggin waay was THAT going to happen. I lunged and emerged victorious..a sure sign that GAWD helps THOSE that help THEMSELVES.

Ru? Ru-ew.. it’s mee-ee. You can open your eyes now. My MIL opens her eyes about ¼ of an inch.. and then quickly shuts them again. Proving what I always suspected. She TOTALLY loves me and I am her entire LIFE. Seriously.. the woman can’t stand when I’m away from her for a second.

RU: (with slightly slurred speech akin to a few shots of Tequila) What er you doinnnn here a-gainnn? You were JUST here a bit ago.


RU: Why ‘re you always fighting with what’s his name? You know the one who wears the same tight tee shirt every day..but it’s not Walter.

WHO have I been fighting with?

RU: Oh.. why don’t you just give him a big fat kiss already cuz you KNOW you want to.. P-a-u-l-a.

Fine. I can play along. Might as well– because I’m not seeing any signs of REALITY happening soon.

ME: Ru? (heh heh heh) Do you think he sounds.. PITCHEY in spots? Let’s ask Simon and Randy. S-i-m-o-n do you..

BITCHEY? Who’s bitchy?

And.. there goes MY fun. Balls. Granny seeing that it’s me standing over her.. immediately slumps her shoulders and commences with the insertion of the tip of a balled up tissue DIRECTLY into the runny nostril. Ewwwww Ruuuuu.. You don’t look so great. Then again.. who really WOULD with a billowing sheet of Kleenex hanging out of their nose.

That’s when granny started to do the ROUTINE with me. The one we do every time we’re the TEENSIEST bit under the weather. I’m all a-chy, my nose is running (sniff sniff) and my tummy doesn’t feellll goooooood. I am SO dying. Then really feebly she leans in closer to me (and I lean back cuz I’m not sharing the love) and she whispers to me. psssssss…. blah blah blah. My response.. of course is very delicate and tender due to the fact that THIS is a woman who has dementia. I must coddle her and treat her like the delicate little flower that she is due to her limited (ROFLMAO-rolling on floor laughing my ass off) understanding of what is happening around her.

“NO. You’re a whiny child. It’s just a COLD.. I’m not rounding up a bottle of Brandy while you write out your will. Why do you think I have the time to do that?”

This I have no tolerance for. I either need to see actual SIGNS of impending doom.. severe forgetfulness or yeah.. maybe some lack of appetite. Cripes! If I EVER see Ru skip as much as a snack—  I am totally hauling her not so little posterior into emergency faster then you can say “Walter, where’s your MAN CARD dude? Give Harriet back her pink plastic reading glasses.”

Since I am positive Ru’Mae ate her breakfast this morning.. due to partial evidence covering her lap— it is now up to me to ascertain the state of her memory. You know. Ask a few pertinent questions that she would have no trouble remembering.

“Ru? Do you now or HAVE you EVER.. owned any piece of the Burberry or Burberry Prorsum line? This could be.. but not limited too: accessories, outerwear or shoes.”

Ru: Handbags?

ME: Yes. Handbags will be acceptable.

RU: What season?

ME: Autumn/Winter o9 or before.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Neuron fire and..

“No. I can’t say that I have ever owned any Burberry..”


“..I did have some Tahari. Uhhhh.. what did I do with that? If. I.Recall. I leant that to YOU. What happened to my beige and pink stripe silk jacket? Does it STILL fit you you or have you shoved it under the bed with all my OTHER nice things? tee hee. Just kidding.”

That’s enough.. you’re good to go.

My Sandwich Generation BFF’s.. colds and flu can be VERY tricky when all that disgusting virus attaches itself to our dear vulnerable seniors. You have to be careful for the morphing. What starts out as a little simple and innocuous OLD.. lady, suddenly changes into a raging drama queen with a desire for liquor, the Playgirl centerfold of Levi Johnston in his birthday suit (to hang on the wall and brighten the place UP a bit) and some warm comfort food like a Lava cake. Watch them closely and make sure you get PLENTY of liquids and rest.

Then leave well enough.. alone.


Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Posted in Uncategorized 12 years, 9 months ago at 9:22 pm.


2 Replies

  1. Poor nana. Every time my grandma gets sick I hold my breath. Also, she is a TOTAL WHINER when she doesn’t feel well. She is a whore for sympathy.