‘Breathe!’ I said for the millionth time. My grandma opened her eyes and took a breath.

‘OOOH!’ She complained in a high pitched voice.

This little routine happens every morning. After helping her shower, I put hydrating cream on her face and legs. I’m not hurting her but she screws up her face as if she is in pain and holds her breath. 

She does concede her skin feels better after the cream but it is always a battle to get it on. After applying it to her face, I massage the cream into her legs and put her flight socks on to keep her legs from swelling too much during the course of the day. She grumbles that doesn’t need them but has given up trying to fight me on that front.

Grandma is a terrible patient, she resists any kind of care, no matter how basic it is or what the benefits are. As her carer, this is less than ideal and I have to take a strict approach as kindly coaxing into her doing anything is a waste of time, we both know it. 

I take some level of comfort that she is not just a bad patient with me.

–        ‘What was that?’ I asked putting my cup of tea down at breakfast one morning

–        ‘Nothiiiiiing’ said grandma, quickly regaining her composure and putting her hand back on the table.

–        ‘Don’t lie. Do your teeth hurt?’

–        ‘No..’

–        ‘GRANDMA..’

–        ‘Ok, yes one does. It’s been hurting for a week.’ She said sheepishly to the table.

–        ‘A week! Jesus! I’m calling the dentist.’

–        ‘No need… it’ll go away on its own.’

–        ‘Yes, need. Honestly! You have to tell me when something hurts.’

–        ‘I doooo!’ she protested with her usual lie, holding her hand up to her mouth again, now that her secret was out.

The dentist could see her as an emergency that morning (I nearly fell off my chair in shock at that answer).

We came home from the dentist, my grandma in no more pain, and me on a work call. After I’d hung up the phone, I asked:

–        ‘Happy with that dentist visit? You want a cup of tea?’ Taking her coat upstairs.

I came back into the living room with her tea a short while later and I saw that she was furiously chewing something. It could only be one thing…

–        ‘What…are you eating jelly babies? Straight after the dentist?’

–        ‘Yes, I’m celebrating he didn’t fiddle with my teeth too much!’

She looked at me cheekily and we both giggled.

–        ‘It’s a wonder you have any teeth left with all those jelly babies you eat!’

I also have to keep a close eye on the pills she has to take, as being a carer is mainly learning on the job, at the beginning, I assumed grandma took all the pills she was supposed to and didn’t check the prescription until I noticed we had suspiciously large amounts of a particularly kind of medication. I checked the directions and saw she was supposed to take it twice a day. I asked her about this and she said she’d had enough of pills and couldn’t possibly face taking an extra one in the evening. I argued and tried for weeks to get her to take the correct dosage but gave up after she made the (very sound) argument she’d survived this long without it. 

These are just a few examples of her reticence to medical attention. I have to use a mix of bribery, bargaining, some shouting, the threat of informing her son of her medical misbehaviour and most importantly, I have learnt to pick my battles.