I can still remember the day my family, including my nieces, nephews, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles had gathered together, waiting for the hospital to contact us in regards to my grandfather’s health. A nurse called and stated that he had dementia. Almost everyone there began crying, while others choked back tears when trying to speak. We took turns stating how much we loved and admired him throughout the years. About a half an hour later, the nurse called back and said she misread the medical notes, and the doctors said by the awful way my grandfather was treating the medical staff, they thought he was “demented”. At that point, everyone in the room started yelling out how mean he was. “I wish someone would knock that old fool into next week,” my cousin shouted. “If I was them, I’d throw him down an elevator shaft… twice,” said another irritated voice. “I never heard him say a kind word about anybody, and I wish I was in a hospital room with him alone for five minutes, while he’s on life support,” said my angry grandmother. (I guess there’s nothing like a crisis that can bring a family together, along with their brutal honesty).
