For those who’ve been wondering just what I’ve been up to, here is a copy of the e-mail I sent to my little brother about flying home from Portland Oregon to Richmond Va with my 80 year old parents. I love my parents dearly, that being said, Hang to your booties folks, this gets bumpy.
So we get to the sky priority desk, which we are. The guy takes our luggage. You leave me. You bastard. The guy asks for Id. Mom and Dad are jibbering so I say, MOM DAD he needs your id. Mom says ALL our ID. The man says only if you want to fly. Mom gets out id. I get out Id. The man checks bags. Mom starts jibbering about her wheelchair. Wheel chair. WHEEL CHAIR. The man says he’s calling for it. asks for credit card to pay for baggage. I hand him mine. Dad says What wait how much, what? I say I don’t know and I don’t care. Dad laughs. Man tells us where to go wait for wheel chair. Mom’s still talking.
We head inside. I walk ahead to find the row of seats. Find it. its marked with the blue handicapped sign. I look back and Mom and Dad are just standing in the middle of the airport. I call them. they stand there. I wave them over. They stand there. Mom sees a guy with a wheel chair “That’s mine. That’s my chair.”
The man explains it is not her chair. There are other people who need chairs. There are. Really. I shout. MOM DAD over here!
Here they come. I tell them to sit. The chair is coming. They sit.
Chair arrives. We get on plane.
We land. The wheelchairs are delayed. We only have a half hour before they start boarding the other plane. Dad start saying this over and over. I say Dad, it’s okay they will not take off without the handicapped lady, really they won’t
I get up and go check it out. Here comes the wheel chair he gets mom. He brings us out and leads the way in a dead run. Dad can’t keep up. I shout at him to slow down. He asks if we need the restroom. Dad can’t hear. I ask Dad do you need the restroom. Dad says yes. He takes us to the closest one. It’s in the area where they have all the tables and snack bar and concession. Dad’s all what is all this? we can’t get through. where are we going? I say, Restroom. he says. oh. We get to the restroom. Dad goes in . Mom says. What’s going on? why are we here?
I tell her daddy’s using the bathroom.
oh.
Yeah, oh.
We hit the trail again. Dad says They’re trying to sell you so much stuff you can’t walk.
Uh-huh. Capitalism.
We get to a hallway and stop. Dad and Mom are talking all over each other, What’s going on why are we here what’s happening?”
I say, to the man behind the wheelchair, “Excuse me sir, is there a reason we’ve stopped?”
He says we are waiting for a golf cart.”
I say to Dad, we are waiting for a golf cart.
He can’t hear me.
He says what? Mom says, Jim, why are we stopped what are we doing?”
“I say, WE ARE GOING TO GET ON A GOLF CART. THEY ARE GOING TO DRIVE US WHERE WE NEED TO GO.
oh.
oh.
Yeah, oh.
We get on golf cart. Daddy’ says “I’m hungry. Where’s my sandwich?”
Mom’s got his sandwich and says, “Can you wait until we get where we’re going. Dad starts asking about where we’re sitting because he wants to be near his sandwich. Mom’s all I don’t know. He rummages for ticket. I grab a nutrition bar out of my bag.
“HERE. EAT THIS. ” I hand him the bar. Then grab Mom’s purse and dig out the sandwich. “Put this in your man bag.”
oh.
okay.
Yeah, okay
We get to gate C 21. They’ve got mom’s wheelchair they put her in it and park her at the sky priority boarding. The person moves on.
Mom wants to know where her person is? I ask what person? She says the one that’s supposed to put her on the plane. I say I don’t know.
One of the ladies at the desk might do it.
Oh.
yeah, oh.
They tell us one of the cabin stewards is sick and they are waiting for another one. There will be a delay in boarding. We will be bringing out refreshments and drinks.
Dad says, “Where’s our plane?”
I say, “It’s on the Tarmac. We’re waiting on the Stewardess.”
A woman rolls Mom three fett away and parks her beside a row of seats. Dad is all I want my sandwich. I say it’s in your bag.
Dad starts demanding a drink.” Where’s a drink? Is there a drink? I need something to drink with this sandwich.”
Mom says they’re going to bring drinks.”
Dad’sin a panic over his lack of drink, “Where are the drinks? When are they bringing the drinks?”
It’s been like 30 seconds since they announced.
I say, ” I’ll go look for a place to buy a drink.” There is noplace to buy a drink. I come back and say, “Dad you can have my water. He says that’s okay.
I go to the bathroom shut myself in a stall and cry.
I come back out and they are serving soft drinks. Dad is drinking his Diet Coke. He finishes his sandwich. He asks, where’s our plane? I say it’s out there. It’s that little plane. The steward is sick. That’s why we’re delayed.
Oh.
Yeah, oh.
Mom says, “I want you to roll me back over there in line.”
I look over and there is no line. It’s just a lady in a wheel chair three feet away. I say, “Mom you don’t need to be there.”
And she goes postal.
“YES I DO. I WANT TO BE RIGHT WHERE I WAS. THERE”S A LINE.”
I may have said something like, Jesus do whatever you want. I’m not sure that part’s hazy.
The next thing I know Dad’s behind the wheelchair. He moves her all of three feet.
I read.
Dad comes back, “Where’s our plane?”
“It’s out there.” I point to the tarmac, “It’s a little one.”
“That’s not our plane.”
“Yes it is.” I show him my ticket and say, see it says expressjet that menas a little plane.
oh.
yeah, oh.
Dad decides he needs to get on the internet. He doesn’t know how. I go ask the lady which service she says whatever the fuck I tell dad whatever the fuck. I find it for him. They try to sell you all kinds of shit. He’s all like, “What is this? What’s going on? I want yahoo.” he hands it to me.
I say. “Daddy, I just don’t know.”
oh.
yeah, oh.
DAd says, “Where’s our plane?”
I die a little inside. I fling my arm at the window. “DADDY! Our plane is out there on the tarmac. It’s out there right there. It’s small. The stewardess is sick. They can’t take off until another one arrives.”
“Well how important is she? Why dont we just go without her?”
“FAA regulations, that’s why.”
Oh.
Yeah, oh.
We board the plane.
We arrive in Richmond. I call Tom to let him know where we are.
He launches into a detailed set of directions I need to follow so we can be where he is.
I say I can’t hear you. I’ll call you back when we get inside.
Oh.
yeah, oh.
We have to wait for wheelchairs. I have to get off the plane cause I’m done. I say to Mom. I’m going to wait outside I’ll be down there.
Dad goes to. We walk down the skinny ramp onto the tarmac. We are outside. It’s a tiny littl ramp. Sort of like a rope bridge. The wheelchairs are there waiting because they can’t go up while people are coming down. Daddy goes over and asks a bunch of shit. They answer, and explain this fact. All he hears is we can’t go up the ramp. He tells me They can’t go up the ramp. We have to go get your mother.
I’m not fucking moving.
Dad goeas and stands by the ramp like he’s going to try and walk up the ramp with all those people coming down. I say, DADDY! you have to wait until they come down. there is no room.
Oh.
Yeah, oh.
They finish. He goes up the Ramp. He’s in the plane for two seconds. Then here he comes back down. The stewardess pops her head out the plane and says WHEECHAIRS!
The wheelchairs go up the ramp one at a time and pick up Mom and a lady with crutches.
We go inside. We stop at the restroom. I close the door on the stall and cry.
I blow my nose. I come back out.
We go to the carosel to get the luggage. It’s all there. I go to find Tom. He’s on the curb with the car doors open. He launches into everything he’s done. I gassed the car… I changed the oil…I got everything ready….”
He’s still talking when I turn around and go back for Mom and Dad. We load up our luggage and I say, “Follow me. Tom’s this way.”.
I start walking. Dad says, “Where are we going? Mom’s all “WHAT? JIM? WHAT?”
I say. “FOLLOW ME.”
We get to car. We load. We get in. It’s raining. It’s dark.
Mom’s butt hits the seat and she instantly starts yapping about their three rental cars they had like she’s just been waiting. Dad is all, “Wait wait where’s my bag?”
I point to the bag between us, “Here.”
Oh.
Yeah, oh.
Tom interrupts mom to say. “I’ve filled up the car. I’ve put in oil. I’ve blah blah blah, but I’m not sure about the exit to 895 so I’ll need you to tell me where it is. Mom says okay and launches right bnack into her story.
I say, “Mom can we put this story on hold until we getsafely onto 895?”
Oh. Okay
Damn right okay.
We get to 895. Daddy says, “Turn. turn right here,” and points to the exit to get back to the terminal.
I say “NO! Go to the right.” Tom goes to the right. We take the right exit. Daddy says the other one would have worked.
I say nothing.
Mom says. “Can I finish my story now?”
I say go the fuck for it.
She tells it. She tells about the first rental car with the bad transmission. She tells about the second one with the window that got stuck. She leaves out the part about having to sit in every car on the lot before she found one comfortable enough.
We drop them off at their house. I get my car.
Tom’s like, do I follow you or do you follow me.
I’m like what the fuck difference does it make we know where we live. I’ll see you at the house.
We get home. The cats say Mommy you’re home Tom lets Petey out of the sunroom where he kept him while he was at the airport. I get in bed with a pile of sugar. I read. I sleep.
I get up at 11:00. The house is a biohazzard.
Tom’s all I got the good coffee. I just make myself a cup of tea because I know there’s no cream because he threw everything in the refrigerator out three days ago and he doesn’t take cream. he says what are you doing. I say I’m making tea because there’s no cream. He says oh I’m sorry. I say its fine.
He goes into the sunroom. I follow him in the sunroom. He says, “Oh by the way the people are coming tomorrow to replace all the ductwork.
WHAT?
Yes, I told you.
No, no you did not.
Tom moves onto the list of things we need to get like birdseed.
I say, baby if you want to get birdseed go for it. My priority is cleaning the cat room and the florida room so the people don’t report us to the landlord for cat funk and I have somewhere to put them while they are here.
oh.
yeah. oh.
I finally sit down with my tea, “wait?” Why’s my chair wet?”
Tom’s got no clue.
I remember Petey. I say, Tom sweetie, when you leave a cat in a closed room for hours you generally, as a rule, most probaby want to put the little box into the room with it.
Now I’m going to go get cleaning suplies and fucking cream for my fucking coffee. love you.
On wow, I’m sending you a global hug, all the way from New Zealand my friend, you are such a kind person, without going into it,I too now only have an aging mother,but who has dementia and , I, like you find, a good cry, deep breathes to the point of hyperventilation, I’ve even known to indulge in the odd liguid persistence, in fact any and all methods that work will do, but yeah sometimes just a little bit of “normal”, quiet and a strong brew of tea helps.
Your good people Evyn, I in the worst moments, just kinda swear a lot more than usual, rev my sarcastic barometer to full and try and just laugh it the fuck off!, tell myself I’ll be old to one day and take those damn deep breathes again.
Go grab your self that strong coffee, with the cream you need, and try and remember we are here for you, if this is what helps, keep doing it!
All the writing you have posted over the last few days, with all this happening…..yeah your good people Evyn, really good people!
I know one day I will be that old but hope to god that I will not be like my parents. I feel your pain and the cat box part….That is something only a man would do. Hopefully you got your cream and coffee.
Been there, done that. Trips with elderly parents who have dementia can cause one to drink something stronger than tea! I discovered that I just have to laugh or I’d be crying all the time over situations that my parents have placed me in. Keep up your sense of humor. A good cry is good for the soul. Thank you for sharing your email.
I’m not laughing……. I’M NOT! Well maybe a little bit. ^^)
Oh Evyn, bless your heart! My parents are same as yours so I do feel for you.
Thanks for writing. Take care.
I had a similar experience at Disney World with my Mom & Dad. My sister had the bright idea she & I take them along with her grandson on vacation. I had a moment of temporary insanity where I thought going to Florida, in July, to the most visited amusement park in the world was a good idea.
My sister is the one who travels with them because I stopped after I went to college. She and my mom like to schedule EVERYTHING. “We have to be up and ready to leave for breakfast by 8:30. We’ll be at eating at blah blah restaurant, it takes 20 minutes to get there. We will come back here and by the time everyone is dressed and has sunblock on then we can safely go to the pool because it will have been an hour since we ate.”
I’m more along the likes of fuck it – there’s a vending machine, I have change and I can eat my peanut butter crackers on the way to the beach.
I rented a wheelchair, MOTORIZED, (did I mention we were at Disney World?). She had had back surgery 4 months before so we didn’t want to chance that much walking & people bumping into her.
Long story short, I went to Walmart and bought one of the horns, the kind kids put on there bikes with the rubber bulb you squeeze and it honks. She was pissed at first, but then took over the horn when she realized my shouts of ‘crazy old lady coming through.’ Honk honk was working.
I didn’t have to apologize every four feet because she hit someone the rest of our trip.
She enjoyed the freedom of being able to go where she wanted and not have to depend on anyone to push her. The argument came after I told her, “No! Tomorrow you get pushed.”
The scene from one of the Austin Powers movies where he gets the golf cart stuck in a hallway sideways when he was turning around and can only move an inch at a time? Yeah, that happened with her.
I may have had a mini melt down & told her to get off the fucking wheelchair so we could turn it around. That was after 15 minutes of her working to get it turned around, only hitting two people and knocking a kid down, who happened to still be crying in the background. Who by the way sent her into a fit of tears for knocking the girl over. I had no sympathy for the kid. Her parents were standing there watching it all unfold laughing their asses off.
My dad trying to tell her what to do and comments like, ‘Damn it, Dee, we’ll buy the sword after we get off the ride (aka – It’s a Small world ride). ‘Shut up, Jay, I can drive a damn car.’ ‘This isn’t a Buick’.
Got the wheelchair turned around, was berated for it going the “wrong” way cause she was hell bent on buying my nephew the sword and I had it facing the “right” direction to get on the fucking little boat to the tune of ‘it’s a small world after all’.
I sat my ass down in the middle of the ramp and cried sputtering, “I wanna go home” and “Disney world isn’t the happiest place on earth, it’s Hell. The Devil is really a 6 foot mouse”
Feel free to vent all you want. I can almost guarantee 99 percent of Us Can relate in one way or the other.
Oh God, if I didn’t know better I’d say the multiverse theory were true and my other self was somehow crossing the dimensioanl shift and writing to me. Holy Crikes!
God bless you, darlin’! How you’re still semi-sane and not bald is beyond me. I too dealt with aging parents and know exactly where you’re coming from. (Though it made for a delightful, chuckle-filled read!!) Thanks!!!! And things can only get better, right? Right??
A true humorist! You make people laugh even at what sounds like a reeeally sucky trip! On the plus side, you got your parents home well! And you still have your sanity…sort of…
I feel for you. Your story sounds do much like My folks. They are in their 80’s with my dad looking after my mom who had a stroke and is now mentally here and there but essentially not the same as before. We went on vacation together with my in-laws and it was a real eye opener as far as their well being. At least they have each other. I’m glad you could add some humor to the story. It sure helps to make those times bearable. Thanks!
Also love your writing and your story, ClusterF**k.