A couple of weeks ago Grandma was sent to the emergency department hemhorraging and was almost dead. It was touch and go.
We knew she was getting better when she called the nurses lazy and the doctors dummies and children of dogs. I learned a whole lot more French spending many hours at the French hospital in town sitting with her. Most of it I probably won't use elsewhere, but it's always good to know I guess. You never know when I might want to tell somebody how useless they are, or threaten to call the Prime Minister when I feel I'm being mistreated. (The nurses reply to that one was he wouldn't come to see her anyways even if she called because he doesn't like to get kicked. She had just taken a chunk out of an orderly with her nails.)
Well, it's been two weeks and we descended on mass to her hospital room today to wish her a happy 97th Birthday. She looked better today than she has in months. She wasn't sure how old she was and at one point was guessing 30. Probably didn't help that my Father kept telling her she was 29. Later she guessed "somewhere around 100?"
Anyhow, it was nice to see her have a more clear mind for her Birthday and looking so fine. I don't know how many days she has left, but it's nice to see her happy and have a glimmer of her old pre-dementia self for a few hours.