Adventures in Dementia 2: Bingo.

So when my grandmother doesn't have anything to do in her life, she calls my father. She then goes on this huge "pity me" rant where she is convinced that everyone she has ever grown up with lives together in one house and she has been ostracized. She wants to go home. She wants to be where we are. She just hates it there. My father patiently explains that she lives five minutes away. In the nicest way possible he explains that pretty much everyone she has spent her life around is dead, including my grandfather. It's my father, and his brother, and their families. That's it. And she does like where she lives. She just forgets that she likes it.

A recent photograph of my father, helping the sick and young.

How do I know that she likes it? Because before she gets on the phone to bemoan the fact that she is alone and everyone hates her, she's out in the common areas singing, dancing, playing with someone's dog, or playing BINGO. We have heard it from the staff. She is apparently very happy all day, then she forgets (she can't really remember second to second), and thinks her day sucked. So she gets very sad.

We know the truth, Grandma.

We have also seen this happy partying she's been doing all day with our own eyes. For example, two days ago, my father and I went to see my grandmother at the Home where she lives. We went to her room and knocked on the door. No answer. This is not uncommon, as she can't hear very well, and she also can't always understand where sounds are coming from. So we check the room, and then I go up the hall to go to the bathroom. As I'm coming back, I see the room with a group of elderly people playing bingo. Having a high old time (I'm so punny) is my grandmother.

She was just like this guy. Except, you know, a girl.

Not wanted to disturb her social time, we leave without saying hello. When my father calls her later that night, which he does every single night, she starts in on the "poor pity me" act. My father explains to her that they stopped by and saw her playing bingo and that she looked like she was having fun. My grandmother starts to get upset. We never saw her playing bingo. She is sad and miserable and she has been in her room alone because no one wants to talk to her this whole time. My father again explains that due to her memory problems, she might not remember that she was. Then my grandmother goes: "Don't you dare EVER accuse me of playing bingo!" Apparently my grandmother now likens playing bingo to raping kittens. She was very upset. "I NEVER play those games." she said.

Those games. You know, the games of Satan.

My grandmother: less fun with age. Old people are not like cheese or wine at all. Nevertheless, she is wonderful, and it was hilarious to hear her talk about bingo.