I am fourteen, and my parents are going through a difficult time and need me to stay with my grandmother for a while.

My grandmother is an anxiety-ridden bull who charges horns forward into every mildly-upsetting situation. It is very embarrassing for me that she makes a fool out of herself everywhere we go together. She is delighted to be my guardian for several months, because despite being an incredibly toxic, selfish, inconsiderate person, she takes pride in being a very faithful Mormon who loves Jesus, and this is her chance to “fix” my atheism.

She shoves religion down my throat at every chance. I already love the principles that Jesus stood for, and I’m so glad that he has so many followers, I just want to be left alone about the fact that I don’t subscribe to a particular religion myself.

We are at the grocery store together, and I have just finished checking out. I make sure our cart is loaded and ready to go so we can move out of the way of the people behind us. She continues to block the checkout counter, painstakingly sorting the change she had just received into segmented pockets of her purse.

I made apologetic eye contact with several people in line. I may not be able to stop her from blocking the register while she sorts her coins, but I can at least move our cart out of the way, so I grabbed the front of it and began to walk towards the door.

Clearly very offended, my grandmother latched on to the handle of the cart, and shoots me a death glare.

Grandmother: “I’m not finished yet,”

She then goes back to sorting her coins. I give another apologetic look to the five customers waiting on her to get out of their way, who by this point are all very irritated. As we are walking out, she huffs to me.

Grandmother: “You care way too much about what other people think of you.”

I reply patiently, with a smile.

Me: “No, I just care about being a decent, Christ-like human being.”

The look on her face was priceless.

I am with my Nana, and I am watching “Rick And Morty.” One of the episodes revolves around concentrated dark matter. I go into the other room to check on my Nana. 

Nana: “What’s that show about?”

Me: “It’s about a boy and his grandfather who go on adventures. The grandfather’s a scientist, and he’s perfected dark matter, which gives him faster-than-speed-of-light travel.”

Nana: “What’s dark matter?”

Me: “Okay, you and I are made of matter, right?”

Nana: “Yes.”

Me: “Dark matter is basically antimatter.”

Nana just has a blank look.

Me: “How do I explain this? Everything on Earth is made of matter, but space is basically antimatter because it has no substance.”

Nana still has a blank look.

Me: “I’m only confusing you, aren’t I?”

Nana: “Yes.”

My grandma manages to hurt her back; I’m not sure exactly what she did but the end result is a laminectomy. Before she agrees to surgery, she tries trying to manage things with drugs. Because she is on painkillers, I am living with her to handle most of the big things like driving — for errands and taking her to and from work — etc.

I’ve just lost my job when things happen, which is why it is easier for me to drop things to go live with her, but after being with her for a few weeks, I get hired on at a new place. When I get the notification for the interview, I explain the situation and they are willing to work around things to a point, and my mom says that she’ll be willing to switch off with me since it is the summer and her job is off for the season, so she’ll be there when I’m not.

I end up getting the job and my grandmother decides that it is a good time for her to stop taking her meds. I walk into the office and hear this:

Customer: “Well, [Grandma], how’re you doing with things?”

Grandma: “My back is still a little stiff. But my granddaughter got a job, so I haven’t had a pain killer in almost twelve hours and I feel great!”

It is only like six, maybe seven hours since I know she took a pill. I don’t say anything to her because she has this annoying habit of automatically dismissing anything I say, but I go back outside and call my mom.

Mom: “Hey, how’s it going?”

Me: “Do you know what your mother’s trying to do?”

My mom heaves a heavy sigh because she knows it’s not good.

Mom: “What?”

Me: “She’s apparently decided that because I’ve gotten a job, she needs to no longer take her meds. She can’t turn her neck and she still can’t move all that fast, but apparently, she thinks she’s going to be driving sometime soon. We told her the plan, didn’t we?”

Mom: “We did. All right, don’t say anything; I’ll take care of it.”

We end the call and I wander back inside. The customer leaves and I settle into the chair I’ve been using. I’m reading my book when my grandma’s phone rings and she puts it on speaker.

Grandma: “Hey, [Mom], are you excited that [My Name] got a job?”

Mom: “I’m always excited when new opportunities pop up for her. Are you still taking your medication?”

Grandma: “Well, I stopped. I need to be able to drive myself since [My Name] will be at work.”

Mom: “Did you check with your doctor before you stopped taking your medications?”

Grandma: “I just stopped. It’ll be fine; I’ll try and drive tomorrow.”

Mom: “No, you will not!”

Grandma: “But—”

Mom: “No. You can’t turn your head without turning the upper half of your body and that’s too slow to react in driving situations. You have not been told to stop your meds and you don’t need to. [My Name] and I already discussed this and we talked to you about it; when she starts working, we’ll switch off so I’ll come stay while she’s at work, and then she’ll be there the rest of the time.”

Grandma: “But you guys just moved and you need to set up your house.”

Mom: “Half of our stuff is still in a storage pod that’s not going to be delivered for at least two weeks. And we don’t have to unpack everything immediately.”

Grandma: “Well, but [My Name]—”

Mom: “[My Name] can make her own decisions and we’ve already discussed this. You do not get to go making your own medical decisions and taking yourself off medications.”

Grandma: “I know what I’m doing. I was a nurse.”

Mom: “Thirty years ago!”

Grandma: “But—”

Mom: “No, Mom. You are not making adult decisions here. You need to take your medication and stop going cold turkey. Your doctor prescribed them for a reason. [My Name] is still able to drive, and she and I have worked things out. I know you want to drive, but that’s not possible right now.”

Grandma: *Heavy sigh* “Fine.”

Mom: “Thank you. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Grandma: “Bye.” *Hangs up and turns to me* “Did you say something?”

Me: “Me? Nope”

She only works a half-day normally, so things finish and we get in the car to head to lunch.

Grandma: “You know, my back is bothering me, so I’m going to take a pill. I’m proud of myself for making it more than twelve hours, though.”

I didn’t bother pointing out that it was still only like nine hours, if that. My mom and I managed to juggle the rest of the summer, and just before schools started back up in September, my grandma went through with the surgery. Luckily, she was able to drive just fine afterward… at least until the stroke, but that’s a story for another time.

My grandmother is OBSESSED with NASCAR! The Daytona 500 is like a religious holiday for her and she spends the entire month before the race getting decorations and meals planned for the Daytona 500 weekend. It’s a bigger deal for her than Christmas and Thanksgiving are for most people. She also literally worships the late NASCAR driver, Dale Earnhardt, Sr., to the point of having a shrine to him in her house for almost twenty years after his death in 2001.

My husband and I are currently stationed in South Korea.

It is the day of the race and she decides to call me. Please note that South Korea is thirteen hours ahead of the east coast of the United States and I have been in bed sleeping soundly for the past five hours.

The phone rings.

Me: *Very sleepy* “Hello.”

Grandma: “It’s Grandma!”

Me: “Oh, my God! Is there something wrong with Grandpa?!”

Grandma: “No! Do you know what day it is?”

Me: “I think it’s Monday.”

Grandma: “No, it’s the Daytona 500! Why are you sleeping?! You should be watching it right now! Does the military not show the Daytona 500 in Korea?! I swear I will call my congressman if they don’t! They have no respect for Dale!”

Me: “They are showing it at the base club but I don’t feel like dragging myself there at three o’clock in the morning! I have an appointment at Yongsan Army Garrison in Seoul at eleven this morning; I have to leave by 8:30 to make my appointment time so I need to sleep.”

Grandma: “It is un-American not to watch the Daytona 500! You are really disrespecting Dale by not watching it!”

Me: “But it’s three in the morning! I don’t feel like crawling out of bed and walking across the entire base in the freezing cold just to watch a NASCAR race! It is too late to get a taxi on base, anyway.”

Grandma: “But this is the most important race of the season! Dale died in that race! You need to respect his memory by watching the Daytona 500 every year!”

Me: “Look, Grandma, I am really tired and I have a doctor’s appointment at Yongsan Army Garrison in Seoul later this morning. I don’t want to try to fight rush hour traffic in Seoul while I am overly tired. I’m going back to bed.”

Grandma: “But the Daytona 500 is the most important day of the year! You need to stay up and watch it! I am ashamed that you aren’t watching it! Dale is looking down from Heaven condemning you for not watching it!”

Me: “Whatever, Grandma. I really need to get back to bed.”

I ended up falling asleep, and when I woke up four hours later, my caller ID said that she had called me EIGHT times between then and seven am. My mom later emailed me to let me know that all my grandmother did was talk about how I should have been watching the Daytona 500 and that I was “lazy” to stay in bed! My grandmother actually wouldn’t talk to me for several months because she thought that I had “disrespected” Dale Earnhardt by not watching the Daytona 500!

My grandfather had a series of mini-strokes which eventually made him blind in one eye and also affected the sight in the other. The doctor recommended he stop driving as his long-distance vision was affected and he had no depth perception. He had a few close misses when pulling out into traffic. My mother wanted his license to be taken away but my grandmother refused as it would upset him, but she did insist that she do the driving from then on.

One morning, Mum notices that their car is gone but my grandmother is still home.

Mum: “Did you know the car is gone? Where’s [Grandfather]?”

Grandmother: “No, he was here a few moments ago.”

A few minutes later, my grandfather drives the car back into the yard, very narrowly missing the power pole by the driveway. Mum and Grandmother rush outside.

Mum: “What are you doing driving?”

Grandfather: “I only went up to the shops.”

Mum: “You know you can’t see properly; you can’t drive.”

Grandfather: “It’s all right. I didn’t go by the main road; I went the back way.”

The next day, my grandmother gets their doctor to take away his license and she starts keeping the car keys hidden.  

A few weeks later, Grandfather’s eyesight worsens to the point that he can’t even see cars on the road. He is told that he is not to cross roads on his own. Again, my mother catches him walking back from the shops on his own.

Mum: “You know you can’t cross roads on your own.”

Grandfather: “I didn’t cross any roads.”

Mum: *Pointing to his newspaper* “The newsagency is on the other side of the main road.”

Grandfather: “I didn’t cross the main road; I walked up to the station and used the crossings.”

Mum: “You had to cross two roads to get to the shops, then cross the same one twice to get to the newsagent, and then do the same on the way back.”

Grandfather: “Those are only streets; they don’t count. I was told I couldn’t cross any roads on my own.”

They had to get the doctor to tell him he wasn’t allowed to cross any streets OR roads on his own.