I've very little memory of the original Laura Huggard, because my granny, Laura, has been suffering from Alzheimer's for many years. I'm not even sure whether my earliest memories of Gran are from when she was in full health or whether I was just too young to be aware.
Anyway, slowly but surely, I became conscious of the fact that my granny sometimes didn't get my name right, or that sometimes she couldn't remember my visit the day before. It became more and more obvious to me, and then eventually I became familiar with the term "Alzheimer's". All of a sudden, it was me settling her into an armchair, rather than her sitting me on her lap. If I sat on her knee now, I think she'd break.
Just because my granny suffers from Alzheimer's, it doesn't mean that my fondest memories of being with her are from before her illness. No way: my granny still has all her best characteristics deep inside, and I think circumstances prove that she'll never lose them. Now in full-time care, my granny still finds ways to help others, even if it's just washing the dishes or cheering everyone up with her singing.
Yeah, even though she rarely remembers her own daughters' names, she still remembers all the words and airs to her favourite childhood songs and hymns. And as for poetry, you need only give her the title and she's away with every line of every verse - on a good day, that is. Some days, she's in flying form and everything's roses, but everybody has their bad days.
It's really horrible to see Gran on a bad day. She gets so agitated - you can see the frustration building inside her. She's dying to say something, but it won't come out. She's just too confused, and when I try to put words in her mouth - to understand - she just gets worse. In the end, she manages to say something completely irrelevant that I can't relate to, so I nod along and pretend to understand.
It's like when we see somebody - anybody - on the street and she says "Biddy": that's what she calls me and everybody else when she can't remember a name. Or she asks, "Who's that, now?" because she just has to know.
Usually, I say something like: "Um, that's Paddy Murphy, Gran, from the, um, local butcher!" I think its better like that, because if I just leave her wondering, it'll only leave her even more muddled and irritated.
Even though my granny's condition is deteriorating, I think she's had worse times. The in-between stage was very difficult. My grandfather, Walter, died about six years ago, and that was a time when Gran just wasn't sure of anything. Days, weeks, months later, she still said: "I have to go home to make Walter his dinner." She'd fuss over it for hours, and we couldn't get her to sit still for two minutes.
Some days you would find her outside the front door, trying to decide which direction is "home", even though she'd been living with us for more than a year.
If you want to keep Granny happy, keep her busy. If she's left doing nothing, her mind wanders too far in the darkness, and she gets lost in confusion.
My granny lived with us for more than a year before going to a nursing home, and one of her main sources of amusement came from my dad. He used to get Gran to sweep up the leaves from the driveway and footpath. She'd be as happy as Larry - her expression, not mine - out there, sweeping away. Then she'd put them in the bin, only for Dad to spread them out again the next day for her to do it again . . . and again - what she doesn't know won't hurt her!
Well, it almost did. One time, all the leaves wouldn't fit in the bin, so she tried to squash them down. She didn't really succeed, so Granny hitched up her skirt and climbed into the bin to trample them down with her feet! Then guess what happened. She couldn't get out, so she was stuck there until my Auntie Les saw her there, and lifted her out!
Having Granny live with us was tough. She needed someone watching over her 24 hours a day, seven days a week. One of us always had to be around to keep an eye on her - that wasn't too hard with five kids in our family.
Granny kept us all amused while she lived with us; there was always another funny incident to tell each other about. This helped a lot, because it made it easier for my family to talk about her.
Unfortunately, the time came when my mother couldn't cope any more, so when the opportunity came about, Granny took a place in a nursing home.
At the time I objected, thinking it was a cruel and heartless thing to do, but I have since realised that she's now getting the 24-hour care and professional help that we couldn't give her.
Receiving the Pfizer Award for Excellence in last year's art competition, as part of the Growing Old with Dignity campaign run by the Alzheimer Society of Ireland, has helped me realise how unaware young people are of Alzheimer's.
I'd tell people about the art competition and they'd say: "Alzheimer's? What?" And I'd have to explain. To me, it was a common, everyday thing, because I'd witnessed it close at hand, but in general, my generation knows very little about the disease, especially considering how common it is.
Because I'm so aware of the illness, you'd think that I'd be afraid of it, that I might suffer from it, but seeing how my family have handled it, and how well my granny is looked after, it doesn't bother me too much.
I mean, my mother and her sisters could have put Granny in a home and left her there, but she's brought out and visited all the time. I only hope that if I follow the same path as Granny, I'm treated as well as her.
Laura Caulwell is a student at Sancta Maria College in Rathfarnham, Dublin
Call 1800-927928 for information on the 2001 Growing Old with Dignity art competition for transition-year students