My mother refused to try out her new scooter yesterday, so today when she tried it at the mall, the first thing she did was drive it at top speed into a concrete barrier, scraping up the front of it.
Since this one was supposed to be packed up and sent back, that’s a problem.
She wanted my father in her wheelchair so he could come with us. But he didn’t want to ride in no stinkin’ wheelchair, except when he needed to. He wanted me to be with her, help her, but in the end he created a requirement for me to divide myself between him and her.
All this was after an our and a half wait with my mother while he had his pre-surgery thing. I would have been fine if I could have popped in my ears and listened to Doris Kearns Goodwin, but no, I had to listen and entertain. Ouch.
All this responsibility, between my mother’s unwillingness to rehearse (and backing a scooter
into an elevator takes some rehearsal), and my father’s inability to talk about the pain and anxiety he feels while waiting for a hip replacement, and I feel the tension.
My father wouldn’t talk about what happened with the crash, only repeating the mantra that she was going too fast. A problem, yes, but to me, less of a problem than trying to drive the scooter though a gap patently too small because she didn’t have the patience to back up and go through the right lane.
It is that impatience, combined with her lack of attention that makes her dangerous with a powered vehicle around other people. They aren’t always paying attention (though the mothers with strollers always are) and that means you have to pay attention for them. Oy.
I have to watch this, and figure out what I need to do when the new scooter comes and this one, now bashed up, is supposed to go.
So many things to figure out, so little mind left.
You must be an angel. I could not do it. I could hardly stay awake, when I was watching my own kids.
When my mother needed the kind of help you are giving, I was many miles away and my sister-in-law was the one that seemed to give most of the heavy lifting. My brother, it seemed, was not that supportive to her, and took the credit from us that were far away. My sister-in-law made a mistake, in her loneliness, in taking up with a neighbor and that ended the marriage. I have only seen her once since their divorce, so I have not been able to thank her, the way we all should have, for all the care she gave my mother during her last years.
I need to do something for her soon.
Hugs,
Vickie