First, Hortense and I left quite abruptly in October of 07 to visit her ailing Grandparents in Japan. They raised Hortense after her parents passed and are her only living family, so as soon as she heard that they were having trouble getting around and couldn't afford a live-in nurse, we zipped on down to Yokohama for an undetermined amount of time. Upon arriving, I couldn't help notice how metropolitan it was, a lot like Chicago (or the Chicago I've seen from John Hughes movies). Hortense's grandparents, Yukio and Toshi, live in the Izumi-ku ward, a suburb which resembles many American burgs.
(Yokohama View)When we got there, I couldn't believe how spry and jovial the couple was. Making jokes about my height and hairy arms, while Yukio made us tea with little cakes from a local bakery. This did not seem like a couple on their way out. Until they started getting ready for bed.
What Hortense and I didn't realize is that Toshi has a colostomy bag. He conceals it pretty well under a bright blue windbreaker. He can't afford the disposable bags so he has to empty it throughout the day. Our first night there, he emptied it and the smell was awful. It physically knocked me out. We were jet-lagged and exhausted, but the smell kept us from passing out. Hortense kept apologizing but it wasn't her fault and I wanted to support her, so I kept telling her it wasn't that bad. Even though it was.
(Colostomy Bag)Yukio has been in decline and succumbing to varying forms of dementia. While I didn't notice at first, H. wondered why Yukio wasn't speaking. She smiled and laughed politely but restricted her speech to monosyllabic words. Yukio had a minor stroke late last year and this must be one of the side effects. Yukio thought she might be misinterpreting her grandmother's shyness with me; but apparently she'd always been a gregarious woman. The next morning, H. woke me in a panic, "Grandma's paralyzed", she cried.
Toshi hurried upstairs to see what was wrong and then laughed once he saw why H. was distraught. In addition to becoming mute, Yukio now suffers from sleep paralysis. It's common among stroke victims; for the first few minutes upon waking, Y. lays in bed unable to move. Her body still thinks she's asleep, even though her brain is awake and conscious. H. became more and more frustrated every day because she wanted to speak to her grandmother about her experience and empathize, but she could only offer her sympathy. I wonder what Yukio felt or thought, if anything.
(Yukio and Toshi Mori)
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