On Your Marks, Get Set,........

Mom and Dad both had to have lab work done the other day. From the moment we start walking out the door to go to the lab, to the moment we finally got there, a good hour passes. But it isn't the process of getting my parents to the lab that's important here. You simply need to picture it in your head so the Dad-ism that occurs at the end of the story can be fully appreciated.

Okay. So, first I load Mom into the car--her walker goes in the far back, then I move the front passenger seat UP so Mom can get her body and HER legs into the back seat. It's important that Mom gets into the car first because the front passenger seat, where Dad insists on sitting (I think I've mentioned that Dad's a retired airline captain? He may not be able to drive anymore but doggonit if he doesn't still demand that he sits in [controls] the "cockpit" of the car. Even if it means that Mom has to scrunch her little legs up into her chest. Have I talked about that nasty stubborn streak that my father has?)

Anyway.......I get the walker loaded, then I get Mom loaded and strapped into her seat. The next step is that Dad moves the front seat BACK because that's the only way he can get his body and HIS legs into the car. Note: Dad doesn't take his walker out in public (This is a combination of pride and stubbornness. Have I.....mentioned.......the stubborn thing?....). Instead he sports a cane, which makes absolutely no sense, which he knows, because with a cane, which he also knows, if he loses his balance he's, well, he's basically toast. And what I've tried and tried to explain to him is that at least with a walker, he would have stability in front of him and at each hand. But, as I said, he refuses, flat refuses, to be seen in public with a walker (I'll restrain making the obvious comment here again.)

The drive to the lab is particularly quiet, I notice. The orthopedic doc had called that morning with the results of Dad's bone density test. Not good. Dad's bones are off-the-charts osteoporotic. She'd like a new blood panel done. Hence, the trip to the lab. The doc is very blunt to say to both Dad and to me, "If he falls again, it will probably end up killing him. " (And yet still......the cane! I'm just saying.) The car is quiet because Dad isn't talking. I'm thinking that Dad's probably mulling over his bone density report.

Mom also has reason to be introspective. She had toddled into my room at 5am that morning mildly agitated because she claimed that: 1. Her diaper had overflowed and the bed needed to be changed. 2. She needed her nightgown changed and Dad tried to help her but ended up yelling at her, gave up in a huff, and went back to bed.

Yeah. Neither of those things was true. Bed was dry. Dad was sound asleep. I tucked Mom back in and went back to my room to contemplate the weirdness of dementia. Anyway, when Mom finally woke up later in the morning, she was convinced, adamant even, that she had a urinary tract infection. I called her doc, who ordered a urine sample. Hence the visit to the lab for her.

Okay now here comes the important part. So I pull into the parking lot. I unload the walker. I unload Mom. She starts wheeling toward the sidewalk. Then Dad gets out. I help him navigate up the curb to the sidewalk. By that time Mom is already there and toddling toward the lab. Keep in mind, none of us has exchanged more than two words in the last hour. Everything you just read happens in silence. Like a very well-rehearsed dance.

Before Dad sets off to walking, he kind of straightens up to loosen his "bad" hip. Then he yells, really YELLS, out to Mom, "DO YOU WANNA RACE?!"

My belly popped out a laugh or two not so much because the mental picture of Mom and Dad "sprinting" to the front of the lab, Cane vs Walker, was really hilarious, but more-so because, as any of you who know my father will attest, he was actually pretty serious. If Mom had turned around and said, "Sure!" he would've jumped at the chance to prove his prowess at something. He's a pretty competitive guy, even at 94. But the even funnier thing is that, dollars to donuts, Mom would've totally dusted Dad. Lemme tell ya, when that woman gets revved up, she toddles like a Weeble out of control.

Thankfully, she didn't hear him, or maybe she just chose to ignore him. In either case, it was a good thing for everyone.

But wait there's more. So, we get the lab work done. We're walking out of the lab. Mom, again, is ahead of us. I'm walking with Dad and he says thoughtfully, "You know.........it won't be too long before I'll need to use a walker. "

(Oh, by the way, there's a woman getting out of her car and she's within earshot of this whole conversation.)

I look at Dad, a little confused and say, "Uh........you already use a walker Dad."

And he corrects me, without missing a single beat, "Not in public I don't!"

I just smile, say nothing, inch him along. We're taking baby steps.

He adds, "I mean when I go out. I think I'm going to be needing to use a walker cuz.....you know....... the cane just isn't very stable for me."

Subtext: No shit Sherlock!

Real text: "Dad........you should be using the walker whenever you go anywhere!"

The woman getting out of her car is listening by this time. I can hear her chuckling.

Then Dad interjects with his infinite wisdom, "Well.......I haven't fallen yet!"

Yeah. Seriously. That's his comeback.

I just stare at him. The woman is cracking up out loud now. I can hear her laughing. I look over at her and shake my head in frustration. I observe that she uses a walker.

Parents loaded, we drive home in silence. I try to figure out how I'm going to fit both walkers into the car....