My dad is taking his behind-the-wheel driving test tomorrow (April 26th), and I'm probably more nervous than he is. He's at that age when the DMV says, "You're getting up there...we need to make sure you're not too hazardous out on the road because you're so old," or something to that effect.
Backing up a bit
A lot of this can be found in my entry called, "About My Dad," which was written March 16th, but I wanted to briefly fill in those who haven't read it. Ever since my mom started getting sick around November, my dad started having really bad memory problems. He was already having trouble with his memory, but I think the stress of it all made it worse. Couple that with anxiety, and it gets EVEN worse.
My dad went to the DMV in November and took the written test. He also had to take an eye test. My mom told me afterward that he passed. Yay! I was worried, because my dads vision is pretty much completely gone in his right eye and I didn't think he'd pass eye the test.
Around January or so, my dad started asking about his driver's license. Why hasn't it shown up yet? Where is it? Did he take the test? Did he pass the test?...these were his questions, which he was asking me over and over every day. I didn't know. I don't live there. And of course he brought this up amid my mom being terribly sick and in the hospital. And this is just ONE of the list of worries he kept showering on me. But we'll stay with this one.
So, I decided to try to get to the bottom of my dad's missing drivers license. I tried calling the DMV but they wouldn't talk to me. Finally I made an appointment and we went down to the DMV. The woman we spoke to told us that my dad has not received his license because he did NOT pass the eye test and needed to see an eye doctor. Great. So we did do that. Then we went back to the DMV. We didn't have his glasses at that point. The woman at the DMV said he needed to have his glasses. So we got them, then made yet another appt and went back to the DMV.
We have been there COUNTLESS times because of this, and I got lost EVERY time. I'm serious. I mean I first took him down there to find out what was up with his license, and he was told that he needed an eye exam. So we went to an eye doctor, and then I took him down to the DMV again, with the doctor's okay for him to drive. We were then told, like I said, that he needed his glasses to take the eye test. So, another trip back after he got his glasses. He didn't pass the eye test, so he had to take the driving test. Throw in one extra trip for the time I got lost and we were so late that I gave up and went home. So that's at least five times, though it feels like more. And during EVERY trip my dad asked me OVER and OVER, where are we going again? Why are we going there? YES, after him calling me hundreds of times OVER AND OVER asking me about this very thing, he asked me over and over each time we went.
The following is the hell week that went on so that my dad could take his driving test. This is a pretty extreme example of what my life has been like, but it hasn't been a piece of cake either. This is maybe magnified 50% or so.
Monday:
We went to the DMV in my dad's car, just in case he'd have to take a driving test. We knew that could be a possibility. When we get to the DMV, my dad and I went up the window when called, and the woman working there told us that he had to take an eye test. However, he didn't pass it. SO, it turns out that he now has to take a driving test. We scheduled it for the next day. Great. What if he doesn't pass this? Am I going to be their chauffeur forever?
On the way home, just to top off the day, my dad got to a light and stopped. When he tried to get going again, the car just stopped again. He put it in park, tried to start it up again, and it stopped. It did this a few times...starting up okay, but stalling each time it was put into gear. My dad finally got is started. A few lights later, when we hit a red light and then it turned green...you guessed it. The car stopped. It was done. It said NO MORE. Unfortunately, we ended up in a left turning lane. Cars honked at us. My dad waved them to go around us. I wanted to shrink down in my seat and hide (being short, I guess that wouldn't have been so hard). NO ONE stopped to help us. One guy came up to the car and said something like, "Dude, you're hella leaking oil. You got a big ass oil leak," or something to that effect. Thanks. Can you help us now? Apparently not. They just wanted to give us an update. Thank you very much.
Finally, this really nice man came over and helped us push the car into a nearby parking lot. By that time it was raining, but I didn't really care, I was just embarrassed as hell. After trying about fifty more times to get the car to start (even though I kept telling my dad, Stop! You're just going to make it worse! It's not going to start!), my dad and this guy looked under the hood. I think they put in some oil...they put something in. Okay so I'm clueless when it comes to cars. My dad tried about 50 more times. Finally, the nice man, who told me I looked 16, drove us home.
NOW what do we do? I called Jeff to see if he had any ideas. He has AAA and offered to let us use one of his free tows. Then we called the mechanic and the receptionist said we could bring the car in if we could get it there by 4:30pm; if not, they would open Tuesday at 8am. It was around 2:30pm. We went to where Jeff works and picked up his AAA card. He also decided to put me on his account, so he gave me a temporary copy of what would be my card, printed out from their website.
I drove us back to where we left the car, and got ready to call a tow truck. Miraculously, the car started! I told my dad we should just drive straight to the mechanic. So he got in his car and I followed him. I thought how odd it was that his mechanic was so close to our house. I thought it was closer to downtown. So I followed my dad. And I get more confused. And more confused. And we were home. Yes, he drove home. I got out of the car and told him we were supposed to go to the MECHANIC. Ugh.
So, we got back in our cars and started going again. After about 15 minutes, my dad pulled over to the side of the road, so I did too. He got out of the car and said, "I can't remember, where are we going again?" and I said, "To your mechanic!" "Where's that?" he asked me. "I don't know," I said, "you said you knew...it's the one on (name) street." He looked bewildered and I'm sure we said a few more things. He got back into his car and yeah, you guessed it...it didn't start. Great.
SOOOOO, he tried to get it started, maybe 25 times this time...got out of the car, came over to me we didn't know what to do, and thought we might have to call a tow truck. Miraculously (again), the car FINALLY started and we were on our way. Or so I thought. I had no idea where my dad was going. I don't think HE had any idea where he was going. And it was getting late. We finally ended up going back to his house. If he wouldn't have gone there in the first place, we might have made it over there in time (if he would have figured out how to get there). I was soooo exhausted. Before going home, to top it all off, my dad asked, "Didn't we go downtown today? What was that all about?" I left. I just wanted to RUN to my car.
Tuesday:
I got up early, called my dad and told him I was on my way to take him to the mechanic, took Jeff to work (ironically his truck is sick too) and then went over to my parents' house. When I got into the house, my dad looked like he was asleep in his chair. I said hello and he got kinda startled and said hello back. I asked him if he was ready to go and he asked me, where? Ugghhh. "To the mechanic," I said, "I just called you to tell you that I was on my way over." "Whats wrong with the car again?" he asked. So I had to tell him for about the 10th time so far what was wrong with his car. He told me he was tired and to let him take a few minutes to wake up. And then a few more. And then he was dizzy. And he decided he didn't feel like he could drive. So I went home. Sigh.
Wednesday:
On Wednesday morning I went over to my parents' again to go to the mechanic with my dad. At least he remembered this time, but he took his time getting ready. We finally got going and guess what...nope! The car didn't die, but something was odd about the route my dad was taking, based on what my mom told him. He just drove around for a while and then I realized he was driving home again. He got out of the car and was upset, saying he didn't know where it was. I told him that my mom knew, and to just go ask her again. I went in as well so Miss Directionally Challenged here could try to figure it out if he didn't. We FINALLY made it to the mechanic and of course, with my luck, there was one of those back in 15 minutes signs on the door. The rest was pretty easy. Tell the receptionist what was wrong with the car. Give keys and info. Leave. Except that every few minutes, "What was wrong with my car again?" "What about the DMV?" "What about my license?" I took him home and couldn't take that anymore so I went home.
Thursday:
By this time I think my body and mind were both shot. Or my mind was shot so it was making my body feel bad so it could get a rest, because I woke up feeling like shit and decided that I was just going to stay home. Fortunately for me, the car wasn't ready. The mechanic needed to order a part.
Friday:
Friday was pretty tame too. Not only did my dad's car have that stalling problem, but his horn didn't work, and he would not even get out of the parking lot during the test if his horn didn't work. Apparently something was broken off of some thingy. The receptionist said that the mechanic didn't have the part and would have to order it. So no car until Monday. My poor mom...all weekend (and during that week) this one really got me scared...my dad looked out the window and asked my mom things like, "where is my car?" "When am I going to get it back?" "Why did we go to the DMV?" "When am I getting it smogged?" (After it gets fixed dad!) "What about my registration?" On and on. When I talked to my mom on the phone, it sounded like she was losing her voice from answering all of his questions. She was so frustrated and I felt so badly for her. As for my dad, I know he cant help himself, but I know he is being stubborn too. I can tell that some of the time, hes just not paying attention. Or well do things to help him remember and he wont bother with them.
He finally got his car back on the following Thursday (apparently while fixing the horn, the mechanic dropped and lost another part...ugh). So I called up to make the appointment, and here we are. It's for tomorrow. And it almost IS tomorrow. Its 11:21pm.
I'm worried about my dad passing the test for two reasons
- If he doesn't pass, I'm going to be his chauffeur for a very long time.
- If he DOES pass, I mean look back at all of the above. Is he REALLY okay to drive when he can't even remember where he is going, how to get there, or why he is going there? I am SO scared to let him drive my mom anywhere.
This is SUCH a double-edged sword. In a way, I feel like I'm being selfish, because if he passes, I wont have to drive him everywhere anymore. But alsoif he passes, he could be putting the lives of himself, my mom, and all of the people on the road in danger.
Anyway, wish us luck, no matter what the results.
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