Jantics

This post won’t contain my usual nonsensical lighthearted banter, but it’s something I want to talk about anyway.
For a couple years now, we’ve known that my grandmother has Alzheimer’s Disease. Her short term memory is so deficient now, she can’t remember what she did just a few hours ago.
She was married twice in her life (both men were named “Don”), and she has a son named Don. She often forgets that her husbands are dead, yet for some reason she insists on believing that her son is dead (He isn’t… in fact he visits her nearly every week).
When she was still living by herself, she would cook dinner for herself AND both her deceased husbands, wondering why neither of them would ever show up. She wondered if this meant they were cheating on her, spending their evenings with other women.
The family would try to explain things to her, but none of the explanations would “stick” in her memory. Five minutes later she would be saying the exact same things, wondering where her husband was.
She began asking the same questions and making the same observations over and over, forgetting they were things she had already said.
Once she became inexplicably violent and kicked my uncle (her son Don) in the crotch.
Then one night, at about 1:00 in the morning, she decided to run away from home. The sheriff found her walking alongside the road in the middle of the night, carrying the following items:

1) a handkerchief
2) a fork
3) a bowl of potato salad
4) a washcloth

When the sheriff questioned her, he could sort of tell she wasn’t in her right mind, so he gave her a ride back home, and alerted my uncle to what had happened.
The family realized that grandma couldn’t be trusted to function on her own anymore. We had to put her in an assisted living facility.
That’s where she still is.
She often forgets why she’s there, and asks people when she can go “home”. She doesn’t remember taking that late-night walk or talking to the sheriff.
So far she still seems to remember who I am, although once in a while her comments suggest she thinks I’m her daughter instead of her granddaughter.
I dread the day when she no longer recognizes me.
It’s awful to see a loved one go through such a terrible disease that turns their brain into mush. She’s so different from the grandma I remember during childhood.
.