I locked myself in the room for the first time in ages last night and I wept. My grandmother walked into a cupboard thinking it’s the door to the bathroom, she walked into the wall while going to wash her hands and if I wasn’t around, she’d have fallen down from her chair. My worst fears are coming true – she’s going blind. It’s a cataract and we can see it and it’s devastating that we can’t do anything about it. She will not co-operate – she hasn’t really seen a doctor since she came here 9 years ago. The last time, she pushed the doctor and scratched the 3 nurses that came to help and pee’d on the x-ray machine.
I don’t care that I will always have to be around now – I’m looking forward to it. I love her like I would my own daughter. She acts like a 6 year old and won’t start eating until we tell her we’re serving her earthworms (noodles) and intestines (pasta) and stirred mud with sugar (bournvita). Chicken = Dog meat, Rice = Maggots. It really is a pleasure.
But to think that she won’t be able to see my sister and her boyfriend when they come home for Christmas, won’t be able to tease him about being a white boy, won’t be able to watch them walk down the aisle when they do, that she won’t be able to see me dance around her just to get her to laugh – it’s breaking me. I can’t get her to my room on the first floor and watch her snore in the other bed. Everything seems dangerous. Things that used to make her giggle (like when we’d run down the stairs just to hug her) now scare her.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can get through the day without crying every time I see her stretch her hands out to get a feel for where she is.
This is painful.