I've Never Slept in My Own Room.

It’s hard to believe, but I’ve never slept in my bedroom. When I moved in, I slept on a twin sized mattress in my son's room, then as my grandmother's health declined the kids and I kinda moved into my grandmother's room. Before we combined our home and moved into this beautiful home, my grandmother had a stroke, but she didn’t become symptomatic until she had another T.I.A. This stroke messed me up, not only was I in college, but she didn’t know English, and I was in the hospital twelve hours a day because she couldn't communicate with the doctors and nurses and it was  uncomfortable for her. So I would get the kids ready for school and go to the hospital, then go back home to get them off the bus and when James was done with work I would go back.

I felt like death, and I was literally alone… Everyone was busy with their lives while I’m here with everyone’s mom and grandmother. Other than two aunt’s no one called her. She had a couple visits but a few minutes here and there is hardly a reprieve for me. I got sick into the third day because it was either hospital food or starve. There are so much vending machine meals a human can take. As my grandmother got better she was switched to a different floor, and the kids were finally able to visit. After the kids got out of school we’d stay at the hospital until the staff kicked us out (they were nice about it).

Even when grams was in the hospital I didn’t sleep in my room, I think I was too depressed. Crying my self to sleep didn’t help. The kids were already used to sleeping in grandma’s room since we moved my little bed in there too. The feeling of being alone sucked. I can’t quite explain it but my grandmother not being around, kind of felt empty and I wasn’t ready for it.

She came home and required a lot of help for me, but I couldn’t get more help than I already was getting for her which was a home health aide 3x a week for one hour each day. Which is fine, I’ve been always grateful for any help I can get, as I took that opportunity to get groceries.

Grams can’t get up on her own, she requires help all the time and she kinda “forget’s” that she has a walker. I’m her walker, and my waist always has black and blue marks where she holds on. Yep, I’m her walker.

Honestly, I want to applaud my husband, my best friend. No one else would ever understand the devotion I have to make my grandmother comfortable. It’s hard, so hard and he gets it.