On Sundays I usually get a Reality check as I do something that makes me ever so grateful for all that I have.  Regardless of how difficult my week has been, regardless of the problems at hand, I leave the place that puts it all in perspective with renewed appreciation for my own life. 

What is it that I do on Sundays that gives me a new lease on life? 

I visit my 95 year old grandmother who lives in a nursing home.  She is one of the fortunate residents there.  She is still of sound mind, and although her body has been weakened by the osteoporosis that has caused numerous fractures of her sponge like, brittle bones, she is still in good shape and in good spirits. 

My grandmother has lived in that nursing home for several years.  During my Sunday visits I've gotten a chance to befriend several of the residents there.  A few of them have already passed away and some are dwindling before my very eyes. 

The girl who lives next to my grandma is in her thirties and suffers from a degenerative disease.  She is such a beautiful and sweet natured girl and it breaks my heart to see her deteriorate year after year.   She now has a hard time speaking and makes screaming sounds in lieu of words.   The nurse told me that she almost swallowed her tongue this week.  She might not be with us next year...

There is a man in his forties who has been getting shorter and shorter every year.  They keep amputating more and more of his legs.  When I first saw him a few years ago he only had an ankle missing; now his body stops right at the groin area.  There is a deep sadness in his eyes and he is always pensive and quiet. 

Then there is the old Italian lady who has that mischievous look in her eyes and is always pulling me over, whispering all sorts of conspiracy theories in my ear.

There is the young guy in the wheel chair who slobbers all over himself constantly.  He is always so happy to see me and tries to tell me so much, yet I understand so little of what he says.  I smile, listen and try to carry on a conversation, and he seems pleased with that. 

My dear grandmother is just delighted that I spend time with her.  She likes her long, white hair brushed.  She likes it when I caress her head, the way she used to caress mine when I was a little girl.  Sometimes I feed her.  I break the food into little pieces and I put them in her mouth, the way she used to feed me when I was little. 

I take her for walks in her wheelchair and she is always so thankful.  She blesses me and tells me that she hopes my kids will take care of me as well as I take care of her.  I shudder when she says that, for I feel lousy for not having her in my home, instead of letting her stay in that place all by herself.  I don't feel like such a good granddaughter.  I wish I had the energy and resources to provide her the proper care in my home.  She is too fragile and is safer in the care of strangers, or at least that's how I justify my inability to take care of her myself. 

How is it that one mother can take care of ten children, but ten children can not take care of one mother?

That's another blog...  For now suffice it to say that although my grandmother always makes me feel guilty when I leave her on Sunday evenings, I consider myself ever so lucky when I step outside that nursing home.  I give thanks for all that I have: my good health, my children's health, my home, my career and all the wonderful things in my life.  Problems...  What problems?

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