(Warning: potentially triggering info to follow, if you have PTSD or are a victim of rape/abuse...please don't read ahead unless you have someone with you, you have processed your situation, and you have healthy boundaries for yourself set up via counselor/therapist, etc)
Meet my biological maternal grandma...Lola. She and my grandpa adopted me May 7th, 1997 when I was 12 years old though I had lived with them and my mother since birth. (Adoption story to come at a later time)
Grandma never lived far from me as an adult except for when I moved to another city with my family, but then it was only 5 months. Thanksgiving week 2013, she came to live with me because she had Alzheimer's. Reflecting back, I see now when it all started. She knew something was wrong but was intelligent enough to cover it up. She had always been the caregiver of everyone, great with accounting, was the most amazing cook, the full time homemaker after her accident left her disabled, and the one who attended all my school functions and extracurricular activities. She was a fabulous wife from what I saw. She was hard headed and always done as she wanted; like mow what seemed to be 40 acres of grass after 5 back operations (never taking anything more than a tylenol for her pain). Homemade bread and cinnamon rolls...ohhh my!
Anyway, it was a rough first night in our home. Not only had I moved her into a home with many doors (there's 5 in just the living room alone), she was in a strange place, and my oldest daughter & hubby had come into town late that night. She was so scared that she came out with her cane raised, and her eyes told the story that she didn't know where she was or who we were. It was the saddest thing I'd ever seen. She was there in body but Grandma was gone. She hid inappropriate used toiletries in different places in her room to hide her incontinence that we all knew she had, and she used to know we knew. I took her to a doctor to get an established PCP and they immediately put her on a medication after she failed the testing for Alzheimers. Me not being experienced in Alzheimer's caused me to join a support group and find out all I could; to help her enjoy as much of her life that she had left. Unknowingly, the medication was not right for her and we ended up at the behavioral unit at the hospital by Christmas.
She had gotten mean and abusive to the animals even her own, hitting my child and saying inappropriate abusive things as well. We had our good days and our bad ones. She even ran away once. I didn't know what to do, I was so frustrated (this wasn't my grandma), scared, sad, and lost. When she arrived at the hospital she bit the ER nurse and slapped her...that's what got her sent to the behavioral unit. From there, the doctors advised me that she was not in a state to be living in my home with the animals and a child. They drugged her up in there...and I hated that! I rushed to get her out and placed within a facility because as much as I didn't want to, I had to keep my family safe. Thankfully we got the meds straightened out before leaving the hospital. She had deteriorated fast during that 2 weeks in there.
We got her placed, and she was happy most of the time. She had "friends" to eat dinner with, games to play, and they let her fulfill her need to be caregiver by letting her fold "no one's clothes", wiped down the tables, etc. Everything was good except she wasn't getting enough fluids...she got dehydrated and got a major kidney infection which made her "crazy" again causing her to fall...so off to the hospital we go to get stitches in her head.
The next 2 days would be the most horrific traumatizing experience of my life and her's. In ER...they went to place a catheter in and she went "ballistic". She shut off her voice and started signing. (history: her daughter/my mother was deaf and we all sign ASL) I couldn't believe what I was watching/reading...holy crap...I'm experiencing her rape assaults (multiple over the next 2 days) via sign language. Every single detail of the trauma was triggered by the catheter. I'm bawling and trying to decipher if I'm to relay the message to the nurse or what the hell I was supposed to do. All I could do was yell..."GET IT OUT"! She doesn't stop flying the hands...like she's talking to the rapist at one point then changing to explaining what's going on. No one ever knew her story...except maybe grandpa; I don't know. What I do know is though it was never allowed to be talked about because that was part of the story she shared; it was her family's skeletons in the closet. I found out who her rapist was and everything he did to her.
My life forever changed. Her voice was loud and clear. She passed on Sept. 6, 2014.
So, with that all said...please, please, please if you have ever experienced any type of trauma, abuse, rape, whatever; know that your body never forgets; no matter the determination of your heart/soul to hide it, shame it, or deny it. This shouldn't be the way someone finds out. Talk to somebody, get some help, and don't be silent because
your voice will come out either while you're in control of it or when you are no longer in control. You are not alone. You didn't deserve it or cause it. It is not ok. #lolaintheraw
In Loving Memory...Grandma, I love you!
