grandpa

My grandfather came to visit for the second time since I’ve been back. He isn’t even a shadow of his former self. This man used to be the life of the party, someone with spectacular tales, and an animated spirit. Tonight, he just sat on the couch with his mouth wide open.

My grandmother doesn’t know what to do with herself. She feels like she’s lost her husband. He won’t eat, he will hardly leave the house, and he doesn’t want to be alone. She told me today that she’s thinking of getting a dog to keep him company during the day because at this rate, she won’t be able to work (she’s a therapist and works from home [she works from home because she has the early stages of macular degeneration, and so she can only drive short distances, and only during the day] {incidentally, her old office is in Los Gatos}).

My grandfather has lost all will to live, he paces through the house fretting about small things and is completely sure that nothing will work out. No one is certain why he had this melt down, what we are sure about is that a number of events compounded whatever sparked his suicide attempt.

His office was loosing money for some time, mainly due to the decline in the quality of his dental work. His technique and equipment were old, and he was making mistakes with his work. Patients called wanting their money back (Amanda warned me about this last year, she went to my grandfather for a filling and had to have the whole tooth removed by another dentist because it was leaking mercury into her system) and many of his longtime patients were dead anyway. He used to be a very popular dentist in his time. Patients used to send him gifts on his birthday and just about every holiday. People particularly loved the way my grandfather would sing old songs from the 50’s and 60’s while he was working on patients. In his office, one heard a tune of some kind, audible over the whirling of drills and air compressors. That was only a few months ago.

He was well past retirement, but I don’t think that was something he ever truly considered. The word was never mentioned, plans were never made, and honestly, for the first time I think he’s beginning to contemplate his own mortality. Right before the suicide attempt, some kind of accident happened with a patient and my grandfather was sure that he killed him.

My aunt and I also suspect that he’s been addicted to vicodin for years (he has arthritic knees and hips from standing all day for 30 years), what years of vicodin abuse have done to make this problem worse-I can’t imagine.

All of this happened on top of whatever financial troubles they were having.

He looks like he’s aged 15 years since the summer. His clothes are hanging off him, and he has lost most of the color in his face.

I can’t deal.