Laughter Yoga

We were laughing so hard we were crying.  Three generations of women grabbing tissues by the handfuls and roaring with laughter.  I was laugh crying so hard that I started to cry cry.  It felt great. My mom was sitting across the room on the other couch.  I sat next to Grandma.  Mom was telling her that we were going to meet at eight o'clock for breakfast.  This was the fifth time Grandma asked when she'd see us again.
  "What! We are all going to die at nine o'clock?" Grandma exclaims.
   "No, we are going to go to First Watch to have breakfast at eight o'clock."
   "Do I have to fix breakfast?"
   "We are going to the resturant at eight o'clock"
   "Oh, that's good before we are all dying at nine o'clock."
And, that is when the laughing started.  I know, maybe this conversation with an 87 year old who has little short term memory storage shouldn't be a laughing matter.  Why shouldn't it be?  She started the laughing after all.  It just escullated when she paused and said, "Wait, what is happening at eight?".
    That's when I started to cry, real cry.  You, know the heaving chest, snot running down my lips cry. Laughing and crying.  Crying and laughing.  It wasn't funny at all.  She couldn't remember, and she knew she wasn't remembering.  I know what that is like.  Do you remember eight months ago when I was recovering from whole brain radiation?  Many of you asked how I felt.  I said I felt like my eighty year old grandmother.  Not only was I physically weak, but I was mentally weak.  Just like my grandmother, I couldn't remember things you just said.  And, I knew you had said it.  That is why I reacted in such a way to the broken record player conversation.  We all three did.  The laughter was a good thing for us.  Not only did it burn off a couple of calories from the wonderful scallop dinner we just had, but it released some major blocked chi.  Let's face it, growing old and being terminally ill is kind of a laughing matter.  What should one do?  Sit there and wallow in her impending loses of life's vibrancy.  Or, should she giggle at the profound oddity and irony of the experience.
     When I left Grandma at the door of the apartment complex, she said smiling, "I am so glad I don't have to cook breakfast tomorrow.  See, I am not as batty as we all think." Love you Grandma.  And, folks, please be kind and patient to anyone loosing their mind.  It isn't easy.  God bless the brain I have and the miracle to mend its broken bits.  Maybe not everything connects like it once did, but I know I will have breakfast tomorrow at nine o'clock.
 at eight?"