Laura

I spent the night at my grandparents' house last night on Long Island. I try to do that as often as I can, since they only live about an hour or so drive from me. My grandmother is in the beginning to mid stages of Alzheimer's Disease, which is something we've been studying a bit this semester. Last night my grandfather told me she was taking Aricept, which I recognized to be a medication developed specifically to address the effects of Alzheimer's. As we were sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on Entemann's donuts (a trademark of Grandma and Grandpa's house), he told her, "You still have to take your Aricept before you go to bed."
Later on, I asked her, "Grandma, did you take your medicine?"
She yelled in to my Grandfather, who was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, "Did I take those pills?"
My grandfather yelled back that she still needed to take the Aricept. Shortly thereafter, we all went to bed. I don't know if she ever took them.

But this morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table with the latest Reader's Digest when my grandmother emerged from her room.
"Laura?" she said, surprised, as she pulled her bathrobe tighter around her nightgown. "What are you doing here, honey?"
Laura is one of my younger cousins; I thought maybe Grandma couldn't see very well from her bedroom door, so I just said "Good morning!" and waited for her to come into the kitchen.
"When did you get here, dear?"
"Last night, Grandma. I spent the night upstairs. Did I wake you?"
"No, no! Don't be silly. I'm so confused. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did. I was very comfortable."
"Well that's good. Sometimes it's cold up there because we keep the doors closed and the heat doesn't go up," now Grandma is looking at me quizzically, "...You remind me of...wow, I'm trying to think here...you look so much like...Erin... no... I'm trying to think of Eddie's...."
At this point, I realize that she still really thinks I'm Laura. But before I say anything, she continues, "I'm so confused. Where did you come from last night?"
"From Connecticut, Grandma," I hope she'll be able to figure it out soon.
"Connecticut? What were you doing there?"
"I'm going to school there, Grandma."(Laura is a junior in high school)
"Going to school... I'm so confused. Where's Mom and Dad?"
"They're in Colorado, Grandma. My mom and dad are Eddie and Donna. I'm Shannon. I just came from Connecticut last night because I'm going to school there."
"Oh... ! You're Shannon. And I called you Laura! Oh, dear. Look at me, dear. I'm so out of it..."
We talked for a bit, repeated a few things, established the fact that Grandma had seen me last night when I arrived. I felt so bad for her. There was no way I could ease her frustration. Even though she handled it admirably, I could see she was a bit distressed that she could not recall what I was telling her. I reminded her that she had just woken up, and that usually, there isn't anyone sitting in her kitchen when she walks out in the morning. So the surprise was understandable. She told me there was a resemblance between me and Laura. I told her that was a compliment to me; but I didn't know what else to say.
When Grandpa woke up, I knew, because Grandma came back into the kitchen and reported, "Grandpa remembers that you came last night," as if to verify my report.
He was wonderful. When Grandma kept mentioning the fact that she had called me the wrong name, Grandpa said, "Well, that's alright, Mommy. I heard her say she wanted to be named 'Laura' anyway." And he even continued to call me Laura for the rest of the morning, making Grandma laugh every time!

I thought about the Aricept then. I wonder if she took it last night. I wonder whether that matters. How scary to be in her situation! Thank God she has Grandpa. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to know that there are things you should be able to remember, but you just can't. What a cross.

I love my grandparents so much. I am so blessed to live so close to them for these few years. I just can't get over the helplessness I felt this morning, not knowing how to completely reassure and comfort my grandmother. I understand that it is not her fault; my understanding of her condition, though, only makes me realize how distressing it must be to experience the disease's progression firsthand.
Saint Dymphna, patronness of those with mental disorders ... Pray for us.