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25 November 2001 @ 04:00 pm
You're so old that you've caved in and grown mold  
How's everybody doing? What'd ya'll do for your Thanksgiving celebrations? (And if you're located out of the United States, what'd you do for your non-holiday weekend?)

Me? I went down to Southern California - specifically, Laguna Hills - to visit my grandparents. Frankly, I hate to do so. My grandfather's alright - bloody awesome, really - but seeing him means seeing my grandmother.

My grandmother's not really that old - 72? 73? - but she's had three strokes and therefore has lost a lot of memory. She confuses easily and sometimes gets "lost" in her mind and won't recognize anything or anyone she sees. She's senile, basically, and physically very weak, so that she can only eat mushy foods and has to do everything at a snail's pace. It drives me nuts. I mean, I realize that someday I'm going to be old but I'll hang myself before I ever allow myself to get that way. Delerium might not be so bad, but to be so weak and slow - no way, baby. I mean, she kept going to sleep midsentence - and if she didn't sleep she couldn't finish the sentence anyway, so what did it matter?

The worst part of it all was I really expected her to just keel over and die. I do every time I'm near her, and even when I'm not. In fact (and this is going to sound really terrible) part of me wishes she would just go ahead and die, because she's pretty useless the way she is right now. Can't think; can't move. What good is she?

See how terrible I am? It reminds me of an on-going conversation Michelle and I have, in which we kill all the stupid people. Personally, I'd go for killing all the useless people, since stupid people can do grunt work. But I'm basically wishing death on my grandmother - isn't that some kind of sick, twisted desire?

It's tragic, I think. If my grandfather died, or either of my mom's parents kicked the bucket, I'd be sad. I mean, I doubt I'd cry, but it'd still hurt. I don't think I'd be really be bothered if we got a call tonight saying, "Oh, Carol's dead." I'd just think, it's about time.

I think a lot of my hatred towards my grandmother's condition is the fear that it's how I'll turn out as well. Old and useless. I live in terror of it. Grandmother was very similar to me, in build - but I hope I didn't inherit too many of her genetics. Her sisters all lived to be ancient old hags (you know the type...in the big houses on the top of the hill with the iron gates and 100+ cats.) or are still living active, productive lives...I hope I'm like them.

I fear aging because I don't want to become useless.