My grandmother has Alzheimer’s. I have to say it might be the best thing that has happened to her. Before you let your jaw hang open as a result of what you will assume is my lack of compassion, let me finish. My grandmother, Mema, was not a nice person. In fact, she was a bitch to all who knew her and even to those that did not. Ever since she has been diagnosed with severe Alzheimer’s, she has been the poster child for pleasantry. She is no longer worried about whether me or my sister still owe her $1.49 for the Baskin Robbins ice cream she took us out for circa 1995. She no longer asks me why my breasts keep shrinking after every child birth in front of my better-looking cousins that I haven’t seen since I was 12, when said breasts were, in fact, bigger than then they are now. Although she did ask how my “cycle” was treating me in front of my cousin Jay yesterday. I’ll let it slide though- it was obvious I was bloated. She kind of just lives in the land of oblivion, and niceness comes with the territory.

            Among other things that are apparently in abundance in La-La land are crazy family members. Why is it that when one person loses their mind diagnostically, every one within arm’s length seems to think it’s a ticket to crazy town, too? My 45 year old uncle , for example, was a not-so happily married man, who in the span of a year, left his wife and 2 kids, and moved back in with my grandmother. A clean-cut guy having worked for the Post Office for 20 years, has now grown his hair out. He is starting to resemble the Adam Sandler character, Zohan, and even wears a man-choker.

            He is not a surfer.

           There are no waves in Miami.

            He is a mail man.

            Here is why I am talking about my grandmother: Three days a week I take her “out”. Out, you ask? Where might “out” be? 

            Out is anywhere she needs to go, or anywhere I can get her to go without resisting my request to get her out of her house. Today our goal was to get Mema her flu shot. My cousin Jay (the cousin who is now privy to my menstrual cycle) and I loaded her into my car alongside my 2 kids, and the 5 of us ventured out to CVS. After asking me and Jay countless times where we were going, whose car we were in and whose kids she was “babysitting”, we arrived. As I filled out the computerized health information sheet, Jay was responsible for watching my 2 kids and our grandmother, totaling 3 children. Abbi, my 6 year old, was talking a mile a minute, while my 16 month old, Lyv, was content chewing on a pen cap my grandmother gave her (do you see what I mean?). As Jay rummages through my purse to try to find her insurance cards and Abbi is telling me how I really need to prioritize her need for Halloween candy this year, and I am struggling to wipe the drool off of my shoulder, we lose my grandmother.

            I look through the aisles, somewhat frantically- I mean, really, how far could she go- I am calling her name. My cousin is still standing in line because he is fearful that we will lose our spot what with the 12 people in front of us. I have Lyv squirming out of my arms and Abbi is struggling to keep up with my fast pace, as I scan each aisle of CVS, wondering which one could have the most appeal to her.

            I find her in the Mixed Nuts aisle. How very appropriate.

            I am with my 2 kids, my cousin who feeds into my grandmother’s senility by answering the same questions she asks him every 2 minutes with a variation of the same answer so that she is all the more confused, and I wonder what we must look like to strangers. Does she even have a bra on? Do her socks match? I cannot wait in this line any longer. Not like this; not with her wandering off every few minutes, only to ask us why we are at CVS in the first place.

            I realize I have to be in class in 2 hours and I am hungry. I tell my cousin I will bring her back myself on Wednesday. This time, I know what to expect. I will bring snacks and entertainment and every nut she could possibly desire. Even pistachios. There will be no roaming. If she asks me why we are here and how we got here, I might just look at her and answer the question with the same question.

            My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and I think I’ve lost my mind.