Driving Miss Saigon
There is an old stereotype which depicts Asians as poor drivers.
As far as my mother is concerned, that stereotype is spot on.
She was a latecomer to the ranks of road warrior and was in her mid-to-late thirties when she first obtained her license. She has never really enjoyed the whole of the driving experience and much prefers for others to drive. She claims she does not see well, despite frequent eye examinations and corrective lenses.
I say "claims" because she is ever-vigilant and very quick to alert me to any and all manner of potential hazard on the road. She is altruistic in her sharing of information because she squeals and jumps to let me know of not only things which might possibly threaten the vehicle in which we ride, but those of every other human on the road.
My mother lends new meaning to the phrase: "She is a trip."
This morning she had an appointment with my doctor. I was concerned about dehydration, heat exhaustion, and possible stroke. She was slurring a bit when I picked her up night before last. With rest, food, and plenty of fluids, it improved yesterday, however; not knowing how long she will be with us I not only wanted her checked out, but wanted her to establish a relationship with a physician in the area, just in case.
In addition to her longstanding osteoarthritis, bilateral carpal tunnel, tendonitis, and low back pain, she is suffering the ill effects of heat exhaustion and dehydration. She is very weak and weighs less than 100 pounds. She stands five feet, one inch tall. Bless her. She is completely exhausted.
Doc gave her a couple of scripts and she wanted to fill them at Wal-Mart (which occupies at least three rings of Hell) so when she returns home, it will be easier to transfer the prescriptions. I wanted to drop her off at home, then fill the prescriptions myself. She was having none of that. She insisted jokingly that with her recent weight loss, it would be easier for me to carry her around. Great.
Instead of going straight to Wal-Mart from Doc's, I decided to take her and Wee One to lunch to give her a chance to rest before we faced the masses. I was also hoping after she sat down for a few minutes she would realize how tired she was and want to go home.
No such luck.
No matter how tired she was, she still insisted she wanted to go and said she would use one of those convenience scooters at Wally World to shop. I relented.
Fortunately, she was a bit restored after the meal and I was able to use the shopping excursion over her head to "encourage" her to eat and drink more.
Because she was the one who suggested the scooter, I assumed my mother knew how to operate the damn thing. Further, I thought they were pretty much idiot proof.
Good grief!
With my child positioned between her and the steering wheel, she backed into a row of shopping carts, then put it in forward and tried to mow down some poor soul with a walker.
Damn good thing they are equipped with a regulator and do not exceed more 1.5 mph or she really would have been hell on wheels.
After fifteen minutes of watching her attempts to drive and shop my nerves could take it no longer. I told her I would be at the other end of the store and when she was finished with her shopping, prescription filling, and whatever, call me on the mobile phone and I would collect her at the front door.
Laughter is a great healer and a few minutes later she was obviously feeling much better because I saw her with Wee One standing between her legs laughing and flying up and down the aisles on that thing.
I can see it now, she's going to have Santa bring her one (my mother, not Wee One) for Christmas. It will be painted red with flames running down the sides. Yikes!
True to form, when they had exhausted all potential targets or running people down in the aisles lost it appeal, she called and I met her with my shopping cart of purchases and we headed to the parking lot.
It was 103 degrees outside. As we neared my car, mom took the keys from me and said she would start the car and get the air conditioner going. Fine.
Apparently, my engine is much quieter than hers. I heard her then strip my damn starter. Twice.
Sigh.
I am glad she is beginning to feel better. Doc said it would take a couple of weeks before her strength will begin to return.
As far as my mother is concerned, that stereotype is spot on.
She was a latecomer to the ranks of road warrior and was in her mid-to-late thirties when she first obtained her license. She has never really enjoyed the whole of the driving experience and much prefers for others to drive. She claims she does not see well, despite frequent eye examinations and corrective lenses.
I say "claims" because she is ever-vigilant and very quick to alert me to any and all manner of potential hazard on the road. She is altruistic in her sharing of information because she squeals and jumps to let me know of not only things which might possibly threaten the vehicle in which we ride, but those of every other human on the road.
My mother lends new meaning to the phrase: "She is a trip."
This morning she had an appointment with my doctor. I was concerned about dehydration, heat exhaustion, and possible stroke. She was slurring a bit when I picked her up night before last. With rest, food, and plenty of fluids, it improved yesterday, however; not knowing how long she will be with us I not only wanted her checked out, but wanted her to establish a relationship with a physician in the area, just in case.
In addition to her longstanding osteoarthritis, bilateral carpal tunnel, tendonitis, and low back pain, she is suffering the ill effects of heat exhaustion and dehydration. She is very weak and weighs less than 100 pounds. She stands five feet, one inch tall. Bless her. She is completely exhausted.
Doc gave her a couple of scripts and she wanted to fill them at Wal-Mart (which occupies at least three rings of Hell) so when she returns home, it will be easier to transfer the prescriptions. I wanted to drop her off at home, then fill the prescriptions myself. She was having none of that. She insisted jokingly that with her recent weight loss, it would be easier for me to carry her around. Great.
Instead of going straight to Wal-Mart from Doc's, I decided to take her and Wee One to lunch to give her a chance to rest before we faced the masses. I was also hoping after she sat down for a few minutes she would realize how tired she was and want to go home.
No such luck.
No matter how tired she was, she still insisted she wanted to go and said she would use one of those convenience scooters at Wally World to shop. I relented.
Fortunately, she was a bit restored after the meal and I was able to use the shopping excursion over her head to "encourage" her to eat and drink more.
Because she was the one who suggested the scooter, I assumed my mother knew how to operate the damn thing. Further, I thought they were pretty much idiot proof.
Good grief!
With my child positioned between her and the steering wheel, she backed into a row of shopping carts, then put it in forward and tried to mow down some poor soul with a walker.
Damn good thing they are equipped with a regulator and do not exceed more 1.5 mph or she really would have been hell on wheels.
After fifteen minutes of watching her attempts to drive and shop my nerves could take it no longer. I told her I would be at the other end of the store and when she was finished with her shopping, prescription filling, and whatever, call me on the mobile phone and I would collect her at the front door.
Laughter is a great healer and a few minutes later she was obviously feeling much better because I saw her with Wee One standing between her legs laughing and flying up and down the aisles on that thing.
I can see it now, she's going to have Santa bring her one (my mother, not Wee One) for Christmas. It will be painted red with flames running down the sides. Yikes!
True to form, when they had exhausted all potential targets or running people down in the aisles lost it appeal, she called and I met her with my shopping cart of purchases and we headed to the parking lot.
It was 103 degrees outside. As we neared my car, mom took the keys from me and said she would start the car and get the air conditioner going. Fine.
Apparently, my engine is much quieter than hers. I heard her then strip my damn starter. Twice.
Sigh.
I am glad she is beginning to feel better. Doc said it would take a couple of weeks before her strength will begin to return.
posted by Feisty at 12:03 PM
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