Trouble increases with every aspect of life, but Grandpa’s bathroom difficulities in particular catch ones’ attention. We are seeing glimpses now of where Grandpa is going with his bathroom troubles. His worst moments are still just that–occasional worst moments. But his departure from reality is becoming increasingly severe.
Grandpa peeing in the bathroom wastebasket, as I think I’ve mentioned before, is no longer a surprising occurance. But imagine that as the beginning point of an increasingly worse spiral.
One evening this week Grandpa came into the living room and handed Grandma a plate and fork. “I need to take a crap,” he told her.
“Okay, go,” she said. “You hurry along.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I want you to hurry up and go to the bathroom,” she said.
“Oh,” he said, and started back toward the kitchen.
I got up and followed. I came into the kitchen behind Grandpa in time to observe him dropping his trousers and preparing to sit in his chair.
“Grandpa,” I said. “Don’t you want to do that in the bathroom?”
“What?” he said blankly. Then he looked down at himself. He gathered that I objected to something he was doing, but couldn’t figure out what. I guess he caught on that he wasn’t doing it properly and realized that if he wanted to take a proper crap he needed to drop his undershorts as well. He promptly began attempting to pull down his undeshorts.
“No, Grandpa,” I said, stopping him. “You don’t want to do that here. You want to do that in the bathroom.”
It took repeated prompting before he realized. Once he realized his error he said, “Well, gee, what are you trying to get me to do it in here for?” as if going to the bathroom in the kitchen was my idea.
****
Another day this week he was having a bad evening, needed to take a leak, and couldn’t find the bathroom. I directed him to the bathroom but I saw he was very confused (indicated in part by the fact that he didn’t shut the bathroom door after himself as he does when he is in his right senses) and so I hesitated before leaving, and saw him beginning to undo his pants in front of the garbage can.
“You’re not quite there, Grandpa,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” he said, and continued to work at his pants.
“No, Grandpa,” I said. “A little further. The toliet is there,” I added, pointing.
“Yep,” he said, taking maybe a teeny step forward and not taking his attention off his pants and the garbage can.
“Keep going,” I said more urgently. “You’re going to miss it.”
“Mmmm,” he said, finally getting his pants open.
“Grandpa–”
It was no good. He didn’t properly understand a word I was saying, and to get him to take a leak in the toilet I would have to physically propell him the rest of the way to the toilet and do the aiming for him. I wasn’t ready to violate his personal dignity to that extent so I watched helplessly as he finally managed to get a stream of urine going and peed inside the new garabe bag (I had just finished changing a previous urine soaked bag) and all down the side and across the floor.
“Am I doing it right?” Grandpa asked. “Is this right? Is this how you want it?”
I couldn’t stand to keep watching. I didn’t want to tell him he was pissing all over the floor. I didn’t want him to feel the utter fool when he finally understood my words and realized he had just done a completely stupid thing right in front of me. So I left. Let him finish and leave, I figured. I would go back after he left and cleaned it up.
I went into the living room to wait but it was little more than a minute later and Grandpa was sticking his head out the bathroom doorway. “Hey,” he said in a miserable voice. “I need help. I made a mess in here. I screwed up.”
“It’s okay, Grandpa,” I said, trying to soothe him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up. You don’t worry about it and just go back and sit down on the couch and rest.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, still sounding wretched. “I don’t know how–I shouldn’t have done it. It’s all over the place. You shouldn’t have to clean it up. I–”
“It’s all right, Grandpa.” Sometimes words are not enough, and this was one of those times. So I gave him a hug. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
The hug seemed to make him feel better because he immediately stopped apologizing and gave a little laugh. “Well,” he said. “My foot is soaked.”
So I took off his socks and made sure he went to sit down. Then I cleaned up the bathroom.
****
Today Grandpa had one of his busy afternoons. He couldn’t sit still, and was going all about the house with me all about the house after him making sure he wasn’t doing anything too serious.
Inbetween checking on Grandpa I was trying to get work done on my computer. Returning to my seat I saw Grandpa enter the kitchen and set down his cane. He turned to face his chair at the table and unzipped his fly. I got up from my chair and started toward the kitchen.
“You going to take a leak, Grandpa?” I said.
“Yep,” he said.
“Well, how about we do that in the bathroom,” I said in the same bland matter-of-fact tone.
“Well,” and I could see the little light going on in his face as he realized what he had been about to do. “Okay,” he said.
Everything is becoming the toilet now. Only once in awhile right now, but more and more it comes.
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