From the day Fran from Teens & Twincesses stepped in to look after her grandma, family life could never be the same. Through dark times and in challenging environments, Fran’s unstinting support has kept her grandma safe, but this continual care has taken its toll. Here Fran tells her story.
The day I received a call to pick up my grandmother from the Critical Care Unit in a taxi I didn’t quite grasp how much it would alter our lives. My mother was apparently too busy. Almost 10 years have passed and my mother now lives in Mallorca. She has her reasons; but the results of her actions have left her mother almost entirely in my sole care.
I have nursed and protected my grandma through falls, surgery, infections and abuse. I have fought for her dignity and at times also her safety. I can name every single one of her medicines and have taken liability for administering controlled drugs. I have been responsible for her eye tests, piano tuning, shopping, laundry and appointments. In fact all of her needs, day and night; without fail.
I have watched her cry with the sadness of my mother’s abandonment, tried to comfort her when she asked what she did that God makes her suffer so. The first time I heard her say she just wanted to die I burst into tears and hugged her tighter than I ever did before. She was sorry for upsetting me and stroked my hair. Is it unforgiveable that now when she says it I try to cheer her up? I still stroke her hair but I feel bad for becoming slightly immune to it.
At night it was so worrying to leave her alone in her flat. I hated myself for turning the key, it was incredibly hard. I always used to wonder if I would see her again. A few times on my leaving she cried; I couldn’t bear it. I’d collect some things and stay the night. Other evenings I rang her the minute I got home, just to check and say goodnight; again. I’d apologise over and over through tears, she was always so kind and understanding.
She’d cry some more too, there have been many tears shed between us. I can’t begin to explain how heartbreaking it is to leave someone that age to go and resume normal home life. I was mentally and physically exhausted; I had never really known such emotional strain. I don’t think coping would be an accurate description of me at that point.
Now she is in a nursing home I worry a little less but the guilt is still immense.
She’s not terribly enamoured with the decision she has made, she hates having no phone in her room. She can’t ring for a chat when the fancy takes her; she feels cut off of course, as do I. Being a non-driver means I can’t go as much as she or I would like.
I miss her desperately, but at least she isn’t going to fall or be soaking wet and shivering all night because a carer wasn’t there. I have to enjoy the time that I am not with her. I feel I owe it to my children and to myself to a lesser degree.
It‘s not easy; there isn’t a day that I don’t do something and think of her. Or feel bad that she would love what we are doing. She was the best at making fun. If she taught me one thing it’s how to laugh. She played the piano every day, I can’t bear to hear one anymore. It is one of the saddest things to watch someone so precious deteriorate beyond almost all recognition.
Because she is marvellous and despite her constant pain she still has the odd light-hearted day. The mischievous twinkle in her eye returns and she can polish off a box of Toffee faster than I could ever.
She is 87 and adorable.
My whole life is filled with happy memories created by her, she is and always will be one of the people I love the very most. I could never grudge the time and care she has needed; I owe her more than I ever could begin to repay. It’s just that after 10 years of worrying, we are both tired. She is tired of life and I am exhausted fighting to make it better for her.
My dream is that she could live with us; we unfortunately don’t have the room. I feel as though I have badly let her down, let my granddad down for not preventing the things that have happened to her. I am grateful he is not here to see how frail she is. Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen if I had been there to get the chocolate out of the fridge at 2am? I can’t ever know but I hope she knows that I genuinely couldn’t have done anymore for her. For me I don’t think it will ever feel anything like enough.
–Fran, teensntwincesses.blogspot.com
About Holly Seddon
Holly Seddon is a writer, editor and community consultant and helped launched the community for Adoption UK, which won charity website of the year just 9 months later. She also writes a music blog.
Domestic goddesque
Tuesday 2nd of August 2011
Golly, I frankly don't know where to begin. I want to give you a big hug, give your Gran a big hug. I am in awe of what you have been dealing with for the past ten years: despite the difficulties, it sounds as though you are lucky to have each other. I send all possible good wishes and positive thoughts: they are all I can offer but I so wish I could do more xx
Insomniac Mummy
Tuesday 2nd of August 2011
Fran, I want to give you the biggest hug. You can't do anymore than you are and you should feel incredibly proud of who you are and what you do. I'm sure your Grandma understands. I can to a great extent understand just how you feel. My Nana passed away recently leaving my Grandad alone after 63 years of marriage. My mum died many years ago, and my Uncle, and one of my cousins live abroad, so like you I am the one who has to take some kind responsibility for the day to day routine for my Grandad. We go twice a week at the moment as, inspite of being registered blind, he likes to maintain as much independence as possible. I know that won't last forever. It is hard, and I do feel guilty that I although I want to do more, I'm often torn between him and my children. Sometimes I'd just like not to have to feel like I'm making a choice between the two so much, and have someone else take over, just for a while. More ((hugs)). xx