He is searching for memories...

My ailing grandpa

I wonder if its just old age or something else, but elders become too dependant and even though you would like to help them out, they themselves are vary in accepting that help.

'I don't want to be dependant on others', grandpa says these days, with a hint of guilt. It is a psychological feeling of being dominated by other, than anything else, I feel. His dementia is growing lately. Just this morning he reminded me, "Please be gentle with me. I know I will repeat things and ask you questions that I have already asked, but don’t get mad at me."

And yes, he is reminding this today like every other day, having very well forgotten that he said those exact words yesterday. That is the nature of dementia though. There are moments when you remember everything as it is and then suddenly you forget the simplest of things. I wonder what must that person be going through. It's a rough ride inside his head, trying to be calm and composed in the wake of such things seems impossible for me- an outsider. I went on a ride to think what causes this.

A few years back, there was a family who stayed opposite to our house in Chiplun. The grandpa was already in his 80's suffering from dementia. At times, he would forget his age, he'd go back to being 40. He would walk out to smoke a cigarette and if someone asked him about his son, he'd reply, "he is in school". The fact of the matter was, his son was in his 50's by then and his grandson was in school. The people who knew him would call his son and he'd come shouting and screaming, dragging him back home. I could understand the frustration of having to go through this every day, but I never really understood the ill treatment that that man got. I think to myself now, what must that man be feeling inside- in the fleeting moments when he was sane. It must be horrible to be living in a house where everyone thinks that you are insane. I learnt one thing then, this is not how a man wants to be treated- then be it that he has gone insane. No one chooses this. This is the harsh reality of nature and one must accept it and be as compassionate as one can.

Grandpa was in his 50’s when he first encountered a shake in his hands. Everyone in our family was certain after a few months that it was here to stay. He was immediately given medicines to control his shake, but no one knew that his dependency on those drugs will lead to other issues. The medicines that he takes, almost religiously, have high dosage of chemicals which affect the brain, they increase dopaminergic activity. How it helps the patient with Parkinson’s disease other than controlling the shakes, I don’t know, but what I do know is that it also causes sleep. Lots of sleep. He takes those medications three times a day. We have observed that his Parkinson’s disease is in control when he takes those, but there is an uptick in his dementia. Doctor does say- although in fleeting moments- that it is due to the Parkinson’s medication that he gets those side effects.

The side effects vary; at times it is hallucination or impulsive behaviour and on other times it is dizziness and constipation. Confusion is the basis with which he sees reality. It is cruel. I find myself shunned in a corner, knowing very well that it is these pills that are making him forget me and yet I have to watch him open that tiny box which says, “Sunday- Morning”, and gulp down those pills each day. It is slow torcher. Like the withering leaves in fall, his memory too is withering away. Although one thing that the tree is sure of, is that it will be autumn again and she will be back to her glory, but I wonder if I can say that about my grandpa. He is already 84.

Last year, his only remaining sister passed away. She faced similar issues, one by one she was forgetting her own family members, which she had nurtured for so long. After the passing of her husband, she was the soul of the house. She took the charge in the wake of her lost companion and undertook all the duties without a hiccup. I remember sitting next to her, on the jhopala (a largish swing), where she would look at me, straight in my eye and remark, “Child. Are you my grandson?” Grandpa went to see her only a week before she died, and there they were, she recognised him immediately. I was sitting across, on the floor, watching them look at each other and reminisce all the memories they must have had growing up. For at least a few minutes, they kept looking at each other, not speaking a word. What a moment that was! I think they both were certain that the time has come, the messenger was knocking on the door and it was her time to depart before her younger brother. She wouldn’t stop crying when we left her house. Grandpa must have looked back at her atleast a dozen times before alighting the final step on the staircase. He sat in the car, wept one last time and said, ‘Ashu, that’s life. Look! It ends so quickly.’

That is life! It’s true that we only have a fleeting moment to roam this earth, to make connections, to love, to live a story and yet we find ourselves so completely lost in these mind games, corporate contracts, acts. What were these old generation people made of? …and before we can ask them to answer those questions, we have given them slow poisoning drugs to make them forget how they lived in a time pre-internet. What if my grandpa would have accepted the shakes and rejected the medications? I don’t know if things would be different, but what I am sure of is he would be much more at peace and calm. He would not have had the dizziness, the constipation, the confusion, the lack of cognitive abilities, the hallucination and all the other issues. What I see is, we have successfully stopped his shakes only to put a terrible dent in his cognitive functioning. I have come to a conclusion, and this is my personal opinion, that western medicine is ruthless. It takes care of the outer parts and manages to totally ignore the deeper parts within the body. Healing is not just outer, it is more fruitful when it is internal. Sadly, internal healing doesn’t mint money and thus it can never be accepted in its full potential. After all, all the companies that make these medications run and profit on the patient having dis-ease, without giving a thought on the root cause of the dis-ease. Accepting drugs like psychedelics to improve peoples health- which has shown great results, cannot be mainstream until it is fully aligned with the medical complex, in a way that it makes them money.

So, I will see my grandpa in flesh and bones but his soul that makes him, him, will be long gone. He will be a mere number in a few years and I can do nothing about it.

‘Ashu, that’s life. Look! It ends so quickly.’ Yours will too…

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