Whats Love Got To Do With IT

So I've finally left my other half as of a week ago only to land upon my grandmother's doorstep. Yes, I know this sounds all peachy-king, however, my grandmother does have a touch of dementia or should I say selective memory. Now I want you all to know that while I did want desperately to leave the other half of my misery behind, that it was only made possible by a few family members who decided it was time to reach out to little old hard-headed me. This was a wonderful idea, just not to well thought out as I found out the day that I arrived at my granny's.

You see, being that granny's illness washes over her at any given moment I have had the pleasure of repeating a story that will never actually stick in the wilting mind of an eighty-three year old woman who by the way, thinks that her vagina is constantly burning when in actuality it is her butthole that's burning due to overusage of laxatives. Yes, she thinks she should use the potty three times a day. Give it a rest granny, even I'm beginning to feel slightly chafed back there myself. Anyhow, my point is that while my family seems to be reaching out to me in their odd sort of way, that I am stuck trying to convince my slightly-touched-in-the-brain-grandmother-due-to-old-age-and-a-dead-husband, on a daily basis that I am not intending to deliver my baby and sleep on her couch forever. She seems to think that I just came there to run up the electric bill and cause her "nerves to remain in shambles".

That's not it at all. I just simply found myself in a very uncomfortable, compromising situation that I am grateful I was able to get out of in a timely manner. However, explaining this to her daily has worn me out. Even though my grandmother can't seem to remember who my mother was (her daughter of course), she hasn't forgotten to list her reasons why she can no longer allow me and my pregnant self to stay there. She says to me, "Granddaughter, it doesn't mean that I don't love you. It's just that my nerves can't take it. I'm eighty-three years old and I get a little social security a month. I'm sorry, but I just can't let you live here. You know I'll help you anyway I can..."

Okay, let's stop right there. Thanks for the hospitality granny. I love you too, but what's love got to do with this conversation that thank heavens you won't remember in the morning?

God bless all older people who suffer with Dementia. Let us just remember that it does take patience and understanding and yes though sometimes even I may wonder about it- it takes love too!