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Drive, he said!
Apr. 22nd, 2003 05:19 pmI have not been this relaxed in who knows how long. I awoke with no stiffness in my back or shoulders and have had no anxious nights in over a week. I guess I needed this vacation.
However, yesterday was kind of hell. It started on Sunday, actually. My brother-in-law decided he had too much work to do, so I got his ticket to the Matisse Picasso exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art and went with my sister and my parents. Since my flight was leaving Laguardia at 8:15, I had to be all packed before we left so we could do a quick turn-around after the show. After the incredible, eye-popping, heart-stopping exhibit (and I don't just mean the beautiful boy with the floppy, long straight hair and the roman nose), we were heading back along the Long Island Expressway when my sister said, "But isn't your flight leaving from Newark?"
It took about 3 nanoseconds to realize she was right. Snake had left from Laguardia the day before, but I was booked to leave from a whole other state! Short of using a personal jet-pack, there was no way I was going to get to New Jersey in time. Luckily, I was able to change my Jetsgo flight up to two hours before take-off with only a $25 fee. (I now have $159 credit with them for a year. yay.) So, it was decided that I would drive home with my parents on Monday and miss a very crucial day of work. Oh well. It was just as well, since my dad was sick as a dog and my mom doesn't like to drive more than an hour on the highway.
So we set off insanely late the next day (don't ask) with my ill dad going through a tissue every 30 seconds, slowly filling a garbage bag as the day progressed. My dad has always been a cavalier and aggressive driver. Yesterday, he was a cavalier, aggressive driver with age-diminished sensory capacity, who was constantly balancing Kleenex, having coughing and sneezing jags while his heart was in fibrillation. I drove about four hours in the afternoon and then he took over again.
Soon, a terrible rainstorm hit. As the windows began to fog up, he did his usual schtick of driving and madly adjusting the heating controls to control the fog. Only thing is, he was doing this while having coughing and sneezing jags and fibrillating. And, whereas in the past, he could have done the adjustments in one second, now he was taking four or five. Soon, we were zig-zagging into adjacent lanes with my mom yelling at him that he was going to kill us and him yelling back that he was in perfect control.
My dad doesn't want to die. Honestly. That's why he's in denial about his abilities. For him, driving is a big sign of independence and control in a world where he's slowly losing both. When his dad was 80, he had a minor car accident. As he sat in the car waiting for the police to come, he started crying because he knew he wouldn't be allowed to drive again.
We took a strategic dinner break and then I took over the wheel with my dad saying every 30 minutes, "I can drive again if you want." I finally managed to say to him later in the evening, "You realize that your driving slipped below the acceptable, don't you?" He didn't respond but he didn't fight either. Further talks will have to follow. My mom is not prepared to drive any distance with him at this point.
It was an altogether exhausting day. Whereas it took us less than 10 hours to drive down to New York, the return trip took more than 13 because of construction.
And speaking of tired, I started this entry when I arrived at work this morning and I'm finishing it at the end of a tough work day. I need to sleep. More and cheerier New York to follow.
However, yesterday was kind of hell. It started on Sunday, actually. My brother-in-law decided he had too much work to do, so I got his ticket to the Matisse Picasso exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art and went with my sister and my parents. Since my flight was leaving Laguardia at 8:15, I had to be all packed before we left so we could do a quick turn-around after the show. After the incredible, eye-popping, heart-stopping exhibit (and I don't just mean the beautiful boy with the floppy, long straight hair and the roman nose), we were heading back along the Long Island Expressway when my sister said, "But isn't your flight leaving from Newark?"
It took about 3 nanoseconds to realize she was right. Snake had left from Laguardia the day before, but I was booked to leave from a whole other state! Short of using a personal jet-pack, there was no way I was going to get to New Jersey in time. Luckily, I was able to change my Jetsgo flight up to two hours before take-off with only a $25 fee. (I now have $159 credit with them for a year. yay.) So, it was decided that I would drive home with my parents on Monday and miss a very crucial day of work. Oh well. It was just as well, since my dad was sick as a dog and my mom doesn't like to drive more than an hour on the highway.
So we set off insanely late the next day (don't ask) with my ill dad going through a tissue every 30 seconds, slowly filling a garbage bag as the day progressed. My dad has always been a cavalier and aggressive driver. Yesterday, he was a cavalier, aggressive driver with age-diminished sensory capacity, who was constantly balancing Kleenex, having coughing and sneezing jags while his heart was in fibrillation. I drove about four hours in the afternoon and then he took over again.
Soon, a terrible rainstorm hit. As the windows began to fog up, he did his usual schtick of driving and madly adjusting the heating controls to control the fog. Only thing is, he was doing this while having coughing and sneezing jags and fibrillating. And, whereas in the past, he could have done the adjustments in one second, now he was taking four or five. Soon, we were zig-zagging into adjacent lanes with my mom yelling at him that he was going to kill us and him yelling back that he was in perfect control.
My dad doesn't want to die. Honestly. That's why he's in denial about his abilities. For him, driving is a big sign of independence and control in a world where he's slowly losing both. When his dad was 80, he had a minor car accident. As he sat in the car waiting for the police to come, he started crying because he knew he wouldn't be allowed to drive again.
We took a strategic dinner break and then I took over the wheel with my dad saying every 30 minutes, "I can drive again if you want." I finally managed to say to him later in the evening, "You realize that your driving slipped below the acceptable, don't you?" He didn't respond but he didn't fight either. Further talks will have to follow. My mom is not prepared to drive any distance with him at this point.
It was an altogether exhausting day. Whereas it took us less than 10 hours to drive down to New York, the return trip took more than 13 because of construction.
And speaking of tired, I started this entry when I arrived at work this morning and I'm finishing it at the end of a tough work day. I need to sleep. More and cheerier New York to follow.
