Kris McCabe, 35, shares her story with Take 5’s Theo Rule:
Staring at the photo of my grandma, I began to cry.
I miss her so much, I thought.
It was 2002, and two months earlier, my mum, Debbie, 45, had moved my two older sisters and me 4000km away from our old home and my grandma Mary, 62, for a new job.
Before the move, Grams, as I called her, lived with us, and she and I shared a bedroom.
She’d help me get ready for school each morning, and on weekends she’d take me shopping or to the horse races.
“You’re like two peas in a pod,” Mum told us.
As a kid with Grams (Image: supplied)
Everywhere we went, people knew Grams for her spunky, outgoing personality and now I missed it desperately.
“I want to move back with Grams,” I told Mum one day.
Aware of our special bond, she told me to call Grams and see what she thought.
“I’d love that, Krissy!” Grams exclaimed down the phone line.
At 15, I moved back to live with Grams (Image: supplied)
So at 15, I flew back to live with her.
We became proper best friends, watching old movies or bopping around to music together.
Grams was very stylish, often giving me fashion advice, and she also taught me how to cook.
Our life together felt like one long episode of The Golden Girls!
But before long, I enrolled in a local high school and fell in with the wrong crowd.
Grams was my best friend growing up. (Image: supplied)
I became a bit wild, staying out late. But when I came home, Grams always welcomed me with open arms.
“Remember, Kristen,” she told me, “no matter where life takes you, family’s what matters.”
It was her unconditional love that got me through my teenage years and kept me from going completely off the rails.
When she reached her early 70s, Grams began exhibiting some strange behaviour.
I love my Grams so much. (Image: supplied)
One day, I noticed she’d turned on the oven.
“What are you cooking, Grams?” I called out.
“I’m not cooking anything,” she responded in confusion from the living room.
This forgetfulness became a pattern of dangerous behaviour.
One time, she left my baby niece alone on a benchtop.
Eventually, she confessed that something didn’t feel right in her mind.
“It’s like I’m not here in this world with you,” she told me sadly.
I wanted to support Grams as best I could. (Image: supplied)
In 2012, I wanted to move closer to my sister, Kacie, and as Grams’ absent-mindedness was becoming serious, she moved in with Mum.
“She’s very unsettled” Mum told me on the phone in 2016. “Today she curled her hair 27 times and some of it burnt off.”
“Why doesn’t she visit me and Kacie?” I suggested, hoping a change of scenery might help.
After two weeks at my sister’s place, she became restless.
One day, we found her barefoot in the snow.
“I want to go home!” she cried.
I desperately tried to get her to come for a calming drive, but she refused, so we had to call emergency services.
It was heartbreaking.
We have a special bond. (Image: supplied)
“Your grandma has Alzheimer’s disease,” a doctor told us later. “She’ll need 24-hour care.”
Helpless, we checked her into assisted-living.
“I promise to visit you,” I told her. “I’m only 15 minutes away.”
I could tell she felt rejected.
It was agonising.
Each time I visited, she seemed more diminished.
Gram’s has always had a positive outlook. (Image: supplied)
On Christmas Day, I found her in the corner of a large common room with 27 other dementia sufferers and just one staff member.
“When can I leave here?” Grams asked me with a broken look.
It grieved me to see my once lively grandma so depressed.
Then in March 2017, my roommate moved out and I had an idea.
“You’re coming to live with me, Grams!” I told her, excitedly.
I wanted to look after her, just as she’d done for me.
“I’m so happy, Kristen,” she cried, hugging me.
Grams came to live with me. (Image: supplied)
I quit my bartending job, and my family and government funding would help support us.
The first night, we cooked some pasta and watched a movie together.
“This is just like the old days,” Grams said, beaming up at me.
With one-on-one care from a familiar face, her spark slowly came back.
That September, I took Grams out for lunch, and she dressed up in beads and sunnies for the occasion.
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” she joked as I snapped her picture and posted it to Instagram.
Grams loves to dress up and pose for the camera. (Image: supplied)
She’s too cool, a friend commented. She needs her own channel.
So I created an Instagram page called @lifewithgrams, to show off our shenanigans.
We’d put on our best clothes and take photos at the races, or film ourselves dancing together in the living room until we collapsed in laughter.
Many people caring for loved ones with dementia began following my posts and were enthused by our antics.
I love your relationship. My nan’s always been my best friend, too, one follower commented.
I began to see how this account could encourage other carers.
Grams was a hit on Instagram. (Image: supplied)
In July 2021, I took ‘Life with Grams’ onto TikTok.
Our videos, like the one of us dressed as characters from Wayne’s World or dancing along to Patsy Cline, received millions of views.
Another time, I found Grams had used a felt pen to colour her lips blue, and I posted that! We were astonished to have nearly 500,000 followers.
“Why do so many people want to watch us?” Grams, 84, asked me.
“Because they love you!” I replied.
Grams loves going to the races. (Image: supplied)
Carers in similar situations often thank us.
I take care of my mum, one viewer wrote recently, these videos are an inspiration to me.
0Recently, Grams’ condition has sadly worsened, and it breaks my heart that she doesn’t always know who I am.
We have a carer who sometimes relieves me of my duties, but the best part is still coming home to Grams.
I love coming home to Grams each day. (Image: supplied)
“I love you!” she says, giving me a big kiss on the cheek.
‘Life with Grams’ is a celebration of the continuing humanity of people with dementia.
It’s a joy to be with Grams in the final chapter of her life, and we’re living each moment to the max.
