Granny Speak

Granny Speak. It’s the term we use for mom’s language, which very few of us understand. As Alzheimer’s has progressed, mom’s ability to communicate has regressed. For the first few years, when she didn’t fully understand the conversation, she would respond to you with, “Whatever.” Now, there are very few words in her vocabulary. Her comprehension of most of what I say to her is extremely limited. There are a few, basic, phrases she understands.

“Mom, we’re going out to do that.” Means I am taking her to church, going to eat, or going to run errands. “I washed that up.” Means she did something. It does NOT mean she washed anything. If she puts a puzzle together, she washed it up. If she put her coat on, she washed it up. You get my drift.

So, with limited conversation, most dinners are quiet. The dining experience has become an exercise in keeping her hands away from something she shouldn’t have, keeping her from guzzling her tea, preventing her from bolting her food like a dog and keeping her from trying to dig in her teeth with a fork. Yeah, it’s no fun. It’s a lot like dining with a toddler.

With other people not knowing our situation, I find myself the object of stares and remarks. Let them look. Let them remark. They don’t know what’s going on. And I manage to let them know that they don’t know what is going on after they’ve made their remark. I found a nifty way to set folks right.

Case in point ~ The first time this happened, I was upset. Now I take endless delight in how I handle these situations. We were in a restaurant, and I did my usual routine of grabbing her napkin and removing the knife from the folds before I let her have the set. Then I moved the sugar and the other condiments out of her reach. I moved the table tent to the far corner. Her little hand snaked over to the container with the alternative sweeteners in it, and I told her No. She wanted her tea glass, and I told her No. She was not chewing her salad completely before stuffing the next bite in, and I told her No and took the dish away. As she finished each bite I let her have the dish back long enough to get a spoonful. This is now a habit. Let her have the dish. Drag it to my side of the table. Wait for her to finish that bite. Shove the dish back across the table. This goes on for the duration of the meal. You guessed it – I don’t eat a lot of hot food. While in this dining process, a lady sitting at the table to the right of my shoulder was observing us. After I fussed at mother for not chewing her food, mother protested that she ‘wanted that up there’ meaning she wanted the dish in front of her. Mother asked, “Why won’t you give me that up? I want that!” The lady observing the little tirade muttered loud enough to her companions, “That woman is being mean to that poor old lady.”

Needless to say, I fumed. Instead of turning to the lady to tell her I was dealing with the late stages of Alzheimer’s and that she should mind her own business, I decided to handle it another way. In the sweetest, syrupy voice I could muster, I said, “But mother, if I let you have this, your hair will turn green and you will start robbing banks again.” Not understanding a word I said, mother merely replied, “Well, okay. Whatever.” Nuff said.

On another occasion, I was out with my brother and his family for a dinner to celebrate a birthday. I pulled the van up to the restaurant door and told mother to get out and go with Steve into the restaurant. She didn’t understand what I was trying to get her to do. I got out of the car, walked around to her door, opened the door and indicated that she needed to get out. “Go with Steve, mom.” “No, no, no.” “Yes, get out of the car.” “No, no, no.” “You are going to go in with Steve while I park the car.” “Go with those people?” I had to raise my voice for her to pay attention to me. “Yes, mother, go.” “No, no, no.” Steve pleaded with her. His wife pleaded with her. Nothing was getting through to her. People on the sidewalk were watching the byplay. I finally raised my voice enough to get her attention and said, “Go with them.” and pointed at the family she no longer recognizes. “Get out? Why?” I shouted, “Because I’m selling you to pirates!” "Okay. Whatever."

One evening, mother was asking for another glass of tea. [I have learned that I need to limit the liquid intake, because there is a direct link to the liquid output. I carry a diaper bag with a change of clothes in it, but, if I can avoid the need to make those changes in a public restroom I will do everything possible to prevent it.] On this particular night mother was being very vocal about wanting more tea. I refused and steered her attention from the glass. She veered back to the glass saying, “Give me that up there. I want that.” Knowing the neighboring tables could hear us, I calmly said, “Mother, you will have to wait. I know you must be very thirsty after chasing all those cars today. And you almost caught that little blue Lotus, didn’t you?” Mother’s reply – “Yes.” I could hear one lady gasp in horror. I waited for Adult Protective Services to arrest me for letting my elderly person play in the traffic.

If you’re walking down the grocery isle and hear someone say, “Mother, if you’re good I’ll let you drive the M-1 Abrams tank to church” it’s just us.