but for the grace of God, I go

I ran into a former patient yesterday at Publix. There is nothing quite like seeing a former patient at Publix at 1pm on a Saturday afternoon while wearing sweat pants, sweat shirt, and no make-up. Kind of ruins that whole perfect, professional image I was going for. Oh well.

I've decided that I never want to get old. Ever. Jared and I went to visit his grandparents yesterday. His grandmother is suffering from Alzheimer's. She is sweet as can be, but life is fading for her. She fell down the stairs while trying to get to the bathroom yesterday and "knocked my brains around." She is sweet and pretty and her name is Polly, which is just perfect for her. I don't like Alzheimer's. My paternal grandfather had it and there is nothing like watching a brillant, distinguished, well traveled and well read man disappear right before your eyes. Talk about true powerlessness. My family finally had my grandmother move in with us and my grandfather moved into an assisted living home. I remember watching my grandmother go visit him one afternoon. Boy, did he remember her. They grabbed each other's faces and kissed and it was one of the most beautiful examples of true love that I have ever witnessed. Grandpa eventually didn't remember me. But, there was always a moment when he would remember my dad, his son. And then, there was a day when that moment didn't arrive. He didn't remember any of us, not even my father. And I never went back to visit after that. Maybe I should feel guilty. I don't know. I just couldn't do it. That wasn't my grandfather. The man who fought in the World War II, who was a fantastic anesthesiologist, who traveled the world and instilled this love in my father and then me, who read constantly and understood almost everything, who let his little granddaughter tie his shoes together under the dining room table on a weekly basis and then pretend he couldn't walk. That wasn't him. It was just a shell of a great man.