On the Other Side of the Wall: Sleepless

   For the first year of Grandma living with us she rarely slept through the night. It was as if her brain had confused night and day. She dosed occasionally during the day and walked all night long. The floor boards creaked loudly in the quiet of night as she got out of bed and began pacing around her room. She looked out the sliding glass door attempting to get the attention of every car that zoomed down the road. Her talking started as mumbling her usual "Where am I ?" over and over. After a few minutes she would begin to raise her voice at the cars going by and then at her own face in the bathroom mirror. Some nights that face got quite a sermon.

   On the other side of the wall I was lying in my warm bed wondering if I should get up or hope she would go back to sleep on her own. Slowly I pulled myself up and threw off the covers and felt my way in the dark to her room.

   "Grandma, get back in bed."

   "What? Who are you?" 

     Louder now so she could hear me I say, "Grandma, get into bed."

   "What? Where am I? Where am I?"

   I walk her to the bed holding her elbow to guide her there. I point to the bed. Firmly I demand, "Get in bed." She gets into bed, lies down, stares at me with her blank eyes. "Go to sleep", 

   "What?" 

   "Close your eyes. It's time to sleep." She closes her eyes. I silently walk back to the door, the hinges squeak. I pause and look back. She didn't hear, thank God. I walk to my room, lie down, pull the now cold covers over me and snuggle down into my bed trying to revive the heat. On the other side of the wall she calls out, "Where am I ? I don't know where I am." I hear her trying to get out of bed. Angrily, I throw the covers back, storm to her room and yell, "Be quiet! Go to sleep!" She lays down and stares at me. At least she has stopped talking. I go to the door and wait. " Where am I? " she begins again. I suck air into my lungs and exhale heavily. "Grandma! Go. To. Sleep. Be quiet!" She shuts up. I sit in the chair by her bed for a few minutes to see if she will actually fall asleep. The time goes by slowly and I begin to doze off. She seems good so I get back into bed. The clock says 1:30. Darn! I have to get up for work at 6:00. My blood pressure goes up and now I can't fall back to sleep. I hate this. If Grandma is not my responsibility then why am I the one getting up in the night? Why do I loose sleep and go to work at 7:00 in a daze and struggle to stay awake throughout the day? Duty cackles in the night and mocks me all day.
   Mom thought maybe a sedative would help Grandma sleep at night and relieve her restlessness during the day. However, despite the low dose of medication she fell in to a strange trance-like state. Pills were not the answer. In a blurred existence she would be prone to falling and less responsive. So I kept putting Grandma back to bed. Some nights it was impossible. I sat next to her in the white chair and waited for sleep to come over her still body. If she started to talk I told her to go back to sleep. Eventually I could go back to my bed and hope against the odds she would truly fall asleep. But after so many frustrating nights I just couldn't handle it and how unfair I felt it was that I had to be the one to take care of putting her back to bed. I decided to just go get Mom and let her take over and try to stay out of it. Enough was enough. Mom said I could come and get her if I heard Grandma get up. Even though I had to go all the way downstairs and walk through our big farm house and go get her in the middle of the night, I did it. This could not continue to be my problem.
   We left the bathroom light on in Grandma's room so if she did get up she could see where she was going and be safer than in the pitch dark. One night while she was opening and closing drawers and rummaging through the closet Grandma found a bra which she thought was a hat and red formal gloves which she put on like slippers. The second Mom opened the door to get her settled back into bed I heard gales of laughter. I ran down the hall to see what the heck was going on and there Grandma was standing as if she was the Queen of England. Mom was dying of laughter and gasping as tears streamed down her face. Grandma had no idea what on earth was so funny. But we took her sage advice she would often share in those early days: "If you don't laugh you'll go crazy." We laughed together and let off some steam and put Grandma back to bed. Again.

   

On the Other Side of the Wall: Escape to Russia

   That fall season when Grandma first moved in with us I was eighteen and at home when most of my friends were leaving for college or making plans to go to college in the next year. Planning for my future was intimidating. Mom and Dad weren't interested in sending me to college because they wanted me to wait for opportunities to work or travel with the program I was studying under. So I waited. I was busy but also frustrated and stuck. But that's life I guess. Learning the ropes of care-giving was important too, for the long haul, as much as I disliked it. There was also the aspect of support that was important during those months. Being together with my family and experiencing what they were dealing with made an invisible investment in the bank account of support and sharing the load of caring for Grandma that only years later I would be aware of.
   In November I got an invitation to go to Russia. WOW! Despite not really having any interest in Moscow I used up my savings and got on a plane filled with other young people and flew the heck across the world to get a break from life. At the airport in Moscow our baggage was loaded onto several buses that we rode to the Moscow River where we would be staying aboard three cruise type river boats. It was cold and snowy and there I stood wearing a beige trench coat wondering how I was going to carry a large suitcase, a medium sized bag and my carry on down the gangplank to the boat. I envisioned myself slipping into the icy river while my luggage sank to the bottom. Then all of a sudden I spotted my friend's cousin,who visited our town every other summer, among the crowd of young people gathering bags. He was my hero, helping me carry my stuff, locate my boat, get my key, and then find my room. I made it! On the narrow door there was a cute little 'Welcome Sarah' sign. I pulled out my key, unlocked the door, and walked in. The little room had two skinny beds and a tiny bathroom that reminded me of the one inside my grandparents' motor home. Here I was across the world by myself in a room wondering what to do next but at the same time happy with the autonomy I felt. Eventually my roommate arrived and introduced herself. She apologized for not being there to greet me when I came to the door. I felt at ease with her genuine spirit and smile and before long we were sharing our stories of how we came to be in Russia. For the past six months or so she had been living there and working in various schools and orphanages. I loved all of the beautiful souvenirs she had acquired including an unusual silver tea urn that was the size of the Stanley Cup. Soon she would be heading home and was looking forward to eating peanut butter again. During the week long stay I got to visit Moscow schools and hand out Bibles with my new friends, see St. Basil's Cathedral, visit a sort of tiny village of churches over a hundred years old, watch a play put on my talented school children, go shopping for souvenirs, and eat at a five-star restaurant where they served a six course dinner that included a serving of escargot. On our school tours we were treated like celebrities and one of the guys in our team attracted groups of excited girls who were anxious to get his autograph for some reason. One of the teachers chatted with me for a while and anxiously asked me over and over to write to her. She gave me her contact information which I later realized was probably her attempt at finding a sponsor to help her leave the newly opened land of the Iron Curtain. The trip soon came to an end and I headed back home with stories and gifts to share. I was thankful for the time away but it was even that more obvious to me upon my return that I really had no other plans for the year ahead. God was going to have to open some doors for me and until then I would have to hang in there and do my part to help out with Grandma and save up for the next big adventure.