Nana Ruby: The Reality

I love visiting Nana Ruby at her new place.  It is new, bright, clean, beautiful and spacious.  Her private room, that my mom and I designed and put together, is bright and cheery, with sunny yellow and creamy grey bedding and accents.  All over her walls are paintings by Opa, and photos adorn the table and kitchen area.  She has nice, new berber carpet that is vacuumed all the time, and a clean, white bathroom with fluffy yellow towels.  There is a chef named Izzy who cooks three delicious meals a day, and friends to share mealtimes with.  When Nana was at her old house, she got into a rut of only eating bananas.  It was kindof an OCD thing.  She weighed like 90 pounds. She didn't eat.  The other day, when I asked her if she wanted me to bring her some bananas, she chuckled and said, "No. That part of my life is over."

I'm glad that part of her life is over.  The part where we never knew when the next call from a concerned neighbor, or worse, the paramedics, would come.  The part where, no matter how many times a day we and the neighbors would check on Nana, she still had plenty of time and opportunity to slip and fall.  The last time she fell, the last of many, was when a neighbor found her in the snow at the mailbox.  When her children moved her into the new place, I won't sugar coat it, it was painful.  It felt like a betrayal.  Then again, you can't leave your mom to die in the snow at the mailbox.  So it felt like a betrayal and a rescue at the same time, and in the simplest of terms, it was.  It was the only choice, but that didn't make it an easy one.

Nana is thriving physically.  She has gained weight and is healthy.  Still, the hours are long and the options are limited.  I took her on a drive this week and brought her to relax at my friend Sarah's house, then at my house.  It's both fulfilling and draining for Nana to be out and about.  She wants the stimulation, but as she told me, "It's interesting.  When you're almost a hundred, your options are...limited."  

As I said on Instagram with the above photo, "Nana has curated a box of quotes especially for the occasion of being almost 99, facing some of the toughest, loneliest, most bewildering days of her life."  It's true.  I don't know if my grandmother, who has almost a hundred descendants, ever would have imagined the days and hours of solitude she would have to endure at the end of her life.  It's so much better now than when she was at her house, what with a personal chef, and other people around all the time.  Yet she doesn't have the energy or mental acuity to go out and do her thing; help people, visit people, dance, sing, play the organ, play the violin, serve in church.  She only has the capacity to wait and see who comes.  

And sometimes, nobody comes.

So she waits with her quote box, and tries to review all the names and faces that are somewhere in her memory banks.  Recently, I was showing her pictures on my phone of all my cousins.  (Thank heavens for facebook!)  I showed her a picture of my dad, and she grabbed the phone.  "I KNOW that man," she mused.  "I know that man."  Her brow furrowed and she sat perplexed and frustrated, trying to recall how she knows my dad.  She had seen him earlier that day.  She sees him almost every day.

And other times, she knows everything.  She always recognizes Scott, even though he probably only stops by every week or so.  She is so nice to him!  Nana is always delightful, and conversation never runs out, because she isn't forming new memories so easily, so conversation can be circular, and if you're willing to repeat yourself, you can have a nice, pleasant conversation forever with just a nugget or two of information.  I talked to Nana for a good 20 minutes last week about how Laura was visiting Athena and it looked like Emily was there too. :)

The things that never dim for Nana Ruby are love of the savior, love of the gospel and love of her family.  It doesn't matter what she can recall at that very moment, her testimony and commitment to the church is always there, and her tenderness and love for her family never wanes.  It just never wanes. 

 Tricia and Jim brought Nana that flower, and she had it outside.  Mary was talking to her about why it was outside.  Sometimes Nana thinks she is still in her house, and that the assisted living is her house.  Funny story:  one say this winter, I was going to take Nana for a drive.  She marched over to another resident who was sitting by the communal fireplace and said, "I'm going out, so I'm just going to turn this off."  She switched off the gas fireplace.  The woman, Lynette, said, "Oh, that's funny, because I was sitting here because of the warm fire."  Assisted living power struggle!  So funny!

 I am in awe of my mom.  She has literally spent a year of her life dealing with the paperwork of Nana's old house and getting her settled in her new surroundings, patiently spending time with her each day, talking about how she is in a new place and why.  She is on the edge of her seat 24-7, waiting for news of Nana.  And in her spare time, she is calling Bountiful City, calling the dermatologist, calling the utilities companies, taking to the insurance people.  All the while, waiting for that phone call.  "It's your mom."  Nana calls her several times a day.  I was visiting Nana Saturday and called my mom so Nana could talk to her.  My mom said, "I'm so glad you're there.  Nana just called me and sounded garbled and confused.  I was about to come down and see if she was OK."  She was OK.  She just needed someone to talk to.

We all admire Nana's resilience and courage, her positive attitude, her optimism.  She got a kick out of this particular quote.  She made it up herself.  Nana has always been one to look on the bright side.  But sometimes, even the bright side gets old when you're alone and scared, forgetful and confused, tired and bored, healthy and impaired.