I come across a lot of interesting wildlife on my walks. Spiders as big as my keys. Caterpillars with vivid painted yellow eyes reminiscent of the prehistoric era. Angry deer charging my screaming dog that I have to chase off with a stick.
Since I left Madrid at the end of March, I’ve been staying at my parents’ house in rural eastern West Virginia. I came home because my grandma was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at the end of last year and her declining cognition was making it hard for my mom to care for her on her own. I came home to try to lend a hand, but more importantly, to spend the last fleeting bit of time with my grandma before it was too late.
But right before I returned, my mom and her brothers made the difficult decision to transition my grandma to a nursing home in Ohio near my uncle where she could receive 24-hour specialist care. Unfortunately, having her stay with family was no longer sustainable. The dementia caused her to lose track of time. She’d wake up at 1 am, thinking it was morning; she’d shower, get dressed, and make breakfast. My mom was getting up nearly every night to remind her of the time and tuck her back to bed. Sometimes, she’d pack a bag and try to leave.
Last month, my mom and I drove the 8 hours out to central Ohio to visit her. More than 3 years had passed since my last visit and I was taken aback by how much had changed. She was so small sitting there in her wheelchair, hands folded in her lap. As I bent down to hug her and tell her how much I had missed her, I burst into tears. A nearby nurse nodded sympathetically as I tried to turn away, embarrassed to cry in front of strangers. My grandma looked at me confused. For her, the constructs of time had already slipped away. A silver lining of sorts, my absence hadn’t seemed as long for her.
It has been hard to reconcile the feeling of loss for someone who isn’t even gone. Even though my grandma knew who I was, even called me by my childhood nickname, I felt that key memories we have had over the years are no longer as easily accesible for her. You can never know how it feels to be trapped in a mind ravaged by dementia. I didn’t know what to talk about or where to start. I didn’t want to confuse her more.
If there’s anything I’ve learned to be comfortable with over the years, it’s that plans change, sometimes even more quickly than they’re made. I came home to help with family stuff and though I’m no longer needed in that way, it has been good to catch up with my parents. I’ve been slow to make plans with friends, giving myself space to adjust and process what led me back here. I’m starting to slowly pivot and consider what’s next.
I thought I’d try to make a go of things here in the US for a few years. When I got back, I was surprised by how OK I felt about leaving Spain. I thought it was a positive sign that I wasn’t depressed or upset. I guess it has been a delayed response though because as I reach the 3-month mark, I can feel it creeping back in.
For the time being, I was offered an epidemiologist position at the health department managing hospital and community outbreaks. They’ve been remote since the pandemic so I’ll be able to stick around here and save some money for the time being. My goal is to mostly pay off my mountain of student loan debt to free myself up for my next move. I’m definitely in need of goals to keep myself moving forward.
My return has been both hard and easy in different ways. The life I left in Madrid was, though comfortable and safe, a life out of options. My immigration status made it hard to do the things I wanted to do: move to a nice apartment by the park, take that job with a contrato indefinido, travel to visit friends. I knew I needed to step away and regroup. With everything happening to my grandma, it seemed like the right time to do that. When it comes to putting those first who have always been in your corner, you make necessary sacrifices willingly.
Living in the moment has never been my forte but I’m trying harder to make use of time as it is, not as it will be.
The Rambling Traveler 