Recently, I fell out of the driver's side door of my car. If truth be told, I did not actually fall out, but it felt as if I did.
My sister was there when I stumbled out - weak-kneed, looking as if I were incapable of driving - which I was. Moments before, she had knocked on my car's window - letting me know that my wait was over. The wait for my rescue.
The morning had started with some challenges: shower, dress, get to my electric scooter and out the door. At least finding something to eat would be easy; the local coffee shop was around the corner and handicap accessible. These activities alone had taken too many "spoons". ( http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/wpress/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/ )
Still, after all these years, I overestimate how much I can accomplish in a day. So, after all the morning's activities, I watched my grandson play baseball, then lunched with friends and family, and then into the car to visit my mom.
My mother is in a nursing home and has entered the last stage of her life - unaware of where she is and who I am. One of my sister's is my mom's primary caretaker and advocate, but another sister and I had arranged to go visit my mom this infamous day: the day that the driver's side door closed for the last time.
As I was driving out to the nursing home, a tightness started in my chest and my breaths came in short, shallow gulps. I wondered, "Am I having a heart attack?" "Oh, calm down," I scolded myself. The tightness gripped my heart. I started to pant. "Oh no! I am going to vomit all over the steering wheel!" "Relax! Relax!" I spotted an exit ramp and headed straight for it.
I called my sister, told her where I was, and what was happening. "No, no, do not call 911," I panted out and then waited. Waited while the pain and nausea ebbed and flowed. Laying in a sea of sweat, I waited. Trusting my body to gain control of the autonomous system again, I waited while my sister drove to me.
Slowly, my body did gain control. Unable to talk, think, walk. My only desire: get home.
That was the last time I drove my car. As I stumbled into my sister's arms and she closed my driver's side door for the last time.
One clear event that must have seemed like a life time.
ReplyDeleteIt was really a scary day for us too, and we weren't even there in the car. While I can't imagine the emotional change that this causes, I do know that this helps us more clearly understand and feel our deep love for you...and that we want to be there to support you in whatever way is best for you.
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