Although Nana Jackson's home was in New Jersey, she actually lived her last 1-1/2 years of life at the author's home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, just 30 minutes away across the Walt Whitman Bridge.
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I was disappointed to find this book a pretty dry, impersonal read, and a bit too political for such a personal story. I would rather had read more of the author’s internal personal struggles in caring for her grandmother in her last years of life. The author also has an odd way of “speaking” (writing) that my simple mind found hard to understand….maybe because I didn’t understand all the political stuff thrown in there...the endless list of activist organizations and names of people who I have no idea about...when it was supposed to be about her and her Nana.

Nana Jackson's home was in West Collingswood, New Jersey. Lorene Cary, her granddaughter, lived just 30 minutes away right over the Walt Whitman Bridge in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and would visit and care for her 100 year old grandmother in her home five to six days a week, on top of raising a family and doing all things she was, and still is, involved in at the time. Her husband, Bob, a pastor, is white and she is mixed Carribean and African-American and a strong activist. Lorene runs the community Art Sanctuary, a nonprofit organization for young blacks to express themselves in music and/or after-school programs. The program's manager, Tarana Burke, was also the creator of the #MeToo movement. Because of the inserts of too many personal views on racism and going on and on about her organizations she’s involved in, at times sounding like she’s giving her self plug-ins, left parts of this story dry and boring.

So here’s the abstracted personal part: At age 100, and still able to live alone, Nana developed an infection that sent her to the hospital. Social workers would not allow her to return home alone. So, Lorena and Bob, made ready a room on the second floor of the rectory, next to the church in Philadelphia where they lived, for Nana to come and live with the help of a hospice nurse. Well, Nana outlived the time limit for hospice care, and ended up living another 1-1/2 years, which all the burden landed squarely on Lorene’s shoulders. The 24 hour care was more than Lorene expected but what she really didn't expect to learn was just how lonely her grandmother really was. And she had to learn to balance the care of a lonely, elderly in the home, which seemed to take over her life. Little things like Nana trying to turn off the TV with her cell phone instead of the remote annoyed Lorena, or when Nana insisted on helping with dinner when it was just easier and quieter do it herself, the fan having to be blowing just right on her face before bedtime, helping her to the bathroom for washing and pottying...if she didn't already wet herself, a blasting TV, etc...

Later as Nana approached death’s door, the lack of oxygen caused her to become irrational and suspicious of hospice care and even of Lorene. She was afraid to drink a tea Lorene had brought to her to help calm her and asked Lorene to drink from the cup first. This may seem crazy, but I’ve had the same experience with my father who was in ICU and he became disillusioned and thought we all were trying to kill him. He had a crazy look in his eyes and I’ll never forget the joker grin on his face when he grabbed his oxygen tubes into a noose and told me to “come closer my daughter...I just want to give you a hug.” Lorene’s grandmother’s actions hurt her, and my daddy’s hurt me. This is the first time I’ve ever read that this has happened to someone else. It actually was a bit of a surprise and relief to k ow that this must be pretty common with old people who are bedridden for long periods of time. Nana Jackson became almost unbearable to all in the family. She was rude, demanding and unappreciative, and it was Lorene’s job to continue to show her love and to fulfill her wishes the very best she could.

The last couple of chapters describes the tremendous energy and time it took to care for her grandmother until, after a year and a half, she just couldn’t take it any longer. And to get her life back she finally had to send her grandmother to Holy Redeemer in Philadelphia for her last nine days of hospice care. She was there by her grandmother’s side when her lungs gave way to what is known as the “death rattle” and then finally her last breath. Nana Jackson died in December of 2008. Lorene felt she had betrayed her grandmother because she did just what her grandmother predicted she would do, gave up on her. But, hospice actually was able to take better care of her at the very end. She was given the perfect drug to calm Nana and the dry, scabby scalp situation that she was experiencing while under Lorene’s care, had disappeared. So, Lorene knew she was being well cared for. I do admire Lorene Cary for stepping up and giving it her all. I'm sure her story will give courage to others in the same situation. ( )

The introduction was intriguing and I was looking forward to the rest of the book. Unfortunately, after reading a quarter of the book, I found it tedious and tangential - often losing the point of the "sitting" and more of a diary of the author's life. ( )

Ladysitting takes place during the last year of Lorene Cary’s Nana’s life, when health issues required Nana to move from her house in New Jersey to Cary’s family home in Philadelphia.
Nana had worked so hard to hold on to the ways we know ourselves as adults: we breathe on our own, toilet ourselves, move about of our own volition, communicate with others, fix and eat food, handle money, live where we choose. She’d been struggling each day to succeed.

In one night she’d lost it all. (p. 30)

Lorene and her Nana were close; they spent most weekends together during Lorene’s childhood. Still, sensitively negotiating Nana’s changing care needs proved to be a considerable challenge. Lorene had her career as an author, professor, and found of the Art Sanctuary, an organization focused on fostering and promoting black art through programs and performances. Lorene’s husband Bob was an Episcopal clergyman, which also made demands on Lorene, as did her role as mother to two daughters on the cusp of adulthood.

Nana moved into a room in the Rectory, fully equipped with a hospital bed. Several other adjustments were made in the home to facilitate her care. The rhythms of church life provided routine and solace for Nana. Initially, Nana received hospice care, but when her condition improved nurses were hired to spend time with her each day. Throughout this memoir Lorene and her family weather the ups and downs, as does Nana who refuses to go gentle into that good night.

Anyone who has cared for an aging relative will be able to relate to Lorene’s story. The narrative rambled a bit at times, but I think it was also reflective of the challenges Cary faced in trying to manage all aspects of her life while simultaneously dealing with the hugely disruptive process of caregiving, and the varied emotional responses of other relatives. ( )