Yesterday I attempted to hire the Mormon Tabernacle choir to sing the Halleluiah Chorus from Handel's Messiah. It seems they don't hire out.
Oh well, this will have to do.
The angels are singing because after her doctor's appointment on Tuesday the Other Mother said she wanted to have a family pow-wow because she had an announcement to make. What was the announcement? Well, after some rambling around through unrelated and unconnected topics she announced that she's "decided" to give up driving.
Why, you might ask, is the word decided in quotation marks? Because her "decision" has been a long and protracted battle where we literally guided and prodded her into a place where she could believe it was her idea.
This has been a very sore point with me for many years. I've been in mortal fear that she'd either hurt herself or someone else. Believe me, it was a distinct possibility. The one and only time I ever rode in a car with her as the driver was over 14 years and I still get flashbacks of the terror I experienced. When I got home that day I told The Farmer that neither I, nor anyone I cared about would ever ride in a passenger in her car.
Every year I was in disbelief when the examiners would pass her and issue the license for another year. The Farmer and his brother would not step in and take the keys away.
When she was hospitalized last fall we had a talk with her doctor and the siege began. It's what my sister-with-the-psychology-degree calls the Long Stall. The Other Mother was pretty much bedridden upon releaase from the hospital. Can't drive when you can't even walk. As she gained strength her doctor launched into the stall.
"Well, I think you should hold off on the driving until you gain some strength back. See you in a month."
She followed that up with a flanking move.
"You have an irregular heartbeat so we're going to hold off driving for now. You might experience some fainting. See you in two months."
My sister claims this technique is used all the time with dementia patients. You gotta wear them down until they simply give up.
When the Other Mother pressed for the OK to drive, her doctor switched up the tactics and said, "Oh, I'm going to refer you to a neurologist and we'll see what he has to say. Make an appointment with him in two months."
She met with the neurologist on Tuesday and he started the process from the beginning again.
"Well, let's hold off until we figure out what's going on with you."
Magically the Other Mother came to her decision. No more driving. Car to be sold. Insurance to be cancelled.
Phew. I am so relieved.
Now, if I could only get her to stop running the washing machine with only 1 shirt in it.