Remembering my Grandmother

I was feeling a little challenged yesterday. My youngest daughter had turned 20 the day before, and I was feeling my age just a little. My cold had gotten worse instead of better. I had to drag myself to work, and then debate the wisdom of completing my daily walks around my building, but it was a beautiful morning, the skies were clear, the sun was shining, and I thought the fresh air might do me some good. I circled into the sunny side of the building that first walk of the morning and felt a warm glow on my shoulders. I was debating with myself about whether or not I should push myself to fit in a modified work-out at the end of the day. I had not been to the gym since Monday, and if I didn't manage to get myself to the gym, I would not make my goal of four work-outs this week. While I had allowed myself the luxury of adjusting my goals for vacation, I was back at home, and I didn't want to lose my momentum. The only problem was my body was not cooperating, and I have found over the years I have to maintain a fine line when I am sick, or a simple cold will roll into Bronchitis and a sinus infection.

I'm not sure why, but as I was debating the best course of action, my grandmother popped into my head. Some of my fondest memories are of my weekend retreats at her home. We would wake up on a Saturday morning, and  Grandmother was already in the kitchen. She always started every breakfast with fresh squeezed orange juice and some sort of fruit: a half of a grapefruit, a slice of honey dew melon or pieces of cut up cantelope. After the fruit she would make some wonderful breakfast concoction: peanut butter toast drizzled with honey, hard boiled eggs mixed with bacon and toast or, on special occasions, tiny white sugared donuts and milk. She had studied home economics in college, and every meal was balanced perfection.I think that is why I was so surprised that in her golden years, nutrition became her enemy.

As my Grandmother aged, she paid less and less attention to her meals. Perhaps it was because she had spent so many years creating the perfect food ensembles that when she only had herself to worry about  it was liberating to simply grab half a banana or half a sandwich. The term "eating like a bird" would have aptly described her intake on any given day. Eventually she reached a point where her primary source of nutrition was Ensure shakes. This concerned us, but we were assured by her closest friend with whom she ate most meals that the shakes were the only things she was interested in anymore, and we all thought it was better than nothing. At least she was getting some vitamins and calories in the shakes.

Her body seemed to fade as did her mental awareness. She would walk less and less, and rely on her wheel chair more and more, and there were many times when I would visit her only to go unrecognized or be mistaken for her youngest daughter Mary Jeanne. Those of us that loved her naturally assumed this was just the normal aging process and were saddened by the degree to which we seemed to lose her. We speculated about alzheimer's and dementia, and we mourned the loss of her vivaciousness. Then after a series of unfortunate events, she landed in the hospital with a severe infection. We thought for sure we were going to lose her, so I flew home to be with her at her bedside. Surprisingly enough though, she rebounded and while she was admitted, she started eating again. She needed help guiding the food to her mouth, but she was clearly interested in food again. She also was receiving extra nutrition and fluids through her IV. My Mom, my aunt and myself took turns staying with her and continued helping her with her meals. By the end of her stay an amazing thing happened. She knew who I was again, she was able to maintain conversations clearly and she seemed to have her old spunk back. It was an incredible change, and we realized that the change was more than likely due to the improved hydration and nutrition she had been receiving in the hospital. Her body simply had not been getting the fuel it needed to function as it should.

Grandmother only lived a short time longer, but that last month was a gift; she could move around more, she could recall more and we were able to spend time again with the woman  that we all had admired and adored growing up. It has been close to five years since she left us, but it has taken this recent journey of mine for me to truly grasp the significance of that lesson. We all age, and we all fight illnesses, but how we control the other variables in our lives is up to us. So as I circled the building, and thought of my Grandmother, I thought to myself she would be proud of the choices I was making with my life today. Whether or not I made my work-out at the end of the day was not going to be the measure of my success for this week, it was instead my ability to see things in a different light.