Aug

I got the call less than three months ago that spurred me into action faster than a three alarm fire drill. My aging mom needed help. With both of the kids gone and a four bedroom house that felt overly spacious, not to mention an ever expanding mortgage (thank you sub-prime lenders), it was a no-brainer. But moving back to the Midwest after living in California for 33 years is something of culture shock. Better to do it when the weather is fine, a person can gradually adapt to the frozen north. But that's another story.

Mom is approaching her 86th birthday this December, and her once athletic and trim figure has shall we say, slowed down. No major life threatening diseases, just well, age.
Personally, I think the hard winters cause a person to age faster when they're unable to accident claim out and exercise. She's been living alone in a second floor condo with no elevator, and failing knees. Recipe for disaster number one.

The eyesight is aided by Coke-bottom glasses, but the constant battle with glaucoma is bothersome, to say the least. Disaster number two. Add to that, a generally wobbliness where the balance suddenly goes and falls occur. Disaster number three. Fortunately, her many falls over the past couple years haven't added the broken hip, nor any other broken limbs problem, yet.

You get the picture. A perfect storm waiting to happen. Not that I'm the sort that worries incessantly, I've left that to the Higher Powers That Be, but the writing was on the wall.

We've been encouraging her to move into an "assisted living" arrangement for sometime. But she has never "been ready for that" and insisted on staying put in her lovely little condo with a view of the local lake that she loves so very much. Can't say as I blame her, no one wants to feel that they can't manage alone anymore. Especially when you think of yourself as an "independent" person.

With three adult children cajoling and pleading with her to make the move, a two year wait from the time that she originally signed up for an apartment had come to an end, along with the excuses. It was time to face the music.

And with her youngest daughter (that'd be me) moving back to town to help out, summer is a good time to reestablish herself in a new residence, take advantage of the three meals a day and all the services that such a place offers. She was overwhelmed with the idea of it all, even though the move was relatively simple and she merely had to sit back and watch it all happen.

I spent a fairly grueling day with three young men toting furnishings from one location to another, bringing my own belongings (temporarily parked at my brother's barn) into her condo and generally getting situated in the new digs. It was sparsely furnished as new pieces had yet to be delivered from a local designer. But her bedroom was in place, all of her clothes hung, her favorite chair and television to tune into arrived without much fuss.

By the end of the day, she was neatly settled and had a meal ready in the dining room just a walk down the long hallways and up an elevator.... all indoor, all easily negotiated and many friends in residence. I returned to the condo to eat leftovers.

Over the next few days, the car was not an issue. I had it parked in her spot at the condo, and made vague promises about bringing it over soon. My siblings and I had discussed this and thought it would be a good time to cut the ties to her car and let others do the driving. She would be quick to point out that she has never had so much as a parking ticket, let alone a speeding ticket, but with a luxury car that has a big V-8 engine and takes off like a sports car when you hit the gas, we cringed at the thought of her driving.

The retirement home has transportation available and many services right in the facility for the ease of their residents. And I would be able to drive her, in her fancy car, when she wanted to go out, too.

After about a week, it got down to it: she pointedly asked me when I would bring her car and leave it, she had errands to run. Important places to go and things to do.

I took a impotence help breath and told her "we don't want you to drive. I can take you." Insubordination in the ranks! How dare I suggest that she shouldn't, or couldn't drive.
I calmly explained that due to her compromised vision and slower reflexes that she really shouldn't get behind the wheel.

I was summarily dismissed and she got up and walked away from me. This conversation was over. But the war would wage on. A phone call demanding that I immediately return her car came a few days later. Words like "now you listen to me young lady..." merely underlined the wrath and rage she was experiencing. I might add that this "young lady" will be 50 something next birthday. No matter, I'm still the baby of the family.

My sister and brother conveniently left this unpleasant task to me, even though my brother lives here in town and my sister had recently spent Mother's Day weekend with her. No discussion about her suitability as a driver passed their lips. No, it was up to me to be the messenger.

To be fair, once Mom realized that she wasn't getting anywhere with me, she spoke to each of them and rallied her plea with them that she needed her car and how much foolishness this whole idea was. As my parents were a united front to us children as we grew up, so too, are we united in our agreement about the car. Hey, they trained us well.

We did leave her an out; to redeem herself and convince, not only us, but the Powers That Be - namely the department that handles licensing to undergo an evaluation test of her capabilities behind the wheel. If the department sees fit to let her continue to drive, then we will return her car. Until then, no go.

She is now cursed with trying to get through to the Secretary of State's office to set an appointment for her evaluation. Their 800 number puts you through an endless loop of pushing buttons and being on hold and is designed to make people hang up. Personally, I don't think there is anyone that answers. I, myself, gave up trying to get through. It's taken me three trips to the state office to trade in my California driver's license for a Michigan license. And I'm a patient person.

I suspect my mom does not have the fortitude to endure the red tape and bureaucracy to get someone on the phone and make that appointment. I could be wrong.

In the meantime, I have submitted paperwork to the state office that demands that she cannot drive until she comes in for said evaluation, which will, I'm sure, take many more weeks to do.

Change is not easy for children and elderly people. Come to think of it, it's not very easy for anyone. No one wants to give up privileges such as driving their car, or even living on your own. But the larger picture comes into view, the "everyone else's safety" on the road view, and to put it in my mother's words, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

I told my mom about a young, single mother whose car had broken down on the highway just last week. She had done everything correctly: emergency flashers, dialed 911 immediately, stayed put in her car waiting for help to come. Sadly, an 85 year old woman did not see her vehicle stopped in the road, and slammed into her, killing the young mom.

My mom looked at me and said, "I suppose there is a lesson in this, right?"

I nodded my head. She didn't say anything further. When I dropped her off, she turned to me and asked," Which department do I call for the evaluation?" She's got things to do. And errands to run.

Nancy Nylen

Nancy is retired from the joys of single motherhood, now that the youngest is off to school. She recently relocated back to the Midwest to help her mother make the move into an assisted living home, and to start the next chapter in her life. Visit her at causeoflife.com