My grandmother was lobotomized in Canada in 1952 right after the birth of my mother.
She went in to have 8 more kids that, like my mother, had to raise themselves.
I only ever knew my grandmother as an obese hoarder who, as a 60-something, loved McDonald’s happy meal toys. Like loved to play with them. People would say, “She’s as carefree as a child!” But even as a kid you could tell she was a broken husk.
The ramifications of these decisions are generational. I never really felt like I had a grandmother, and I know my mom‘s life was really messed up growing up because her mother was basically another kid in the house.
Every time my mother talks about government conspiracies, and how Covid vaccines can’t be trusted, and main stream doctors can’t be trusted, I have to remember where she came from…