I hate that. Hate it, hate it, hate it. It's like staring into Hell.
My one conversation with my dad's mum (see above) after she finally slipped over the edge of the catastrophe curve, was over the phone, and consisted entirely of 'who called me?', 'who did I phone?', and 'is that you (dad's name)?', repeated in no particular order for about five thousand horrible years before I passed the phone to Dad.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Fri 3 Jun 2011, 10:02, 1 reply)

Depressingly, this wasn't on the phone.

( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 3 Jun 2011, 10:34, closed)

I don't think I ever had to deal with her IRL at that point.
Dad did a couple of times, then stopped. And his sister, who lived a lot closer than we did, went to see Gran a lot, grinning her way through it all and answering her questions on where cousin X(sister's son) was and how he was doing.

Cousin X died about two years previously, possibly by suicide.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Fri 3 Jun 2011, 10:38, closed)

did your cousin accidently brutally cut his own head off while brushing his hair?

( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Fri 3 Jun 2011, 14:30, closed)