It's quiet here in Dad's room. He's off the BiPAP, and it's a lot easier to understand him with the smaller oxygen mask. He's resting comfortably. Still joking a little bit. He likes to have the nurse call button firmly in his hand at all times, saying that he'd be "up a creek without that beeper...I think they're all asleep back there."
Mom's gone back to the doctor for more tests. I'm hoping that she starts feeling better somehow, but I know that the things that she needs to get done simply must get done, and no one can do them for her. At least her fever is gone.
I thought I'd throw a little video up here for comic relief...OK, it's not that funny, but it makes me laugh. Before I get to the vid, I'll explain a bit about this whole scooter thing.
2 years ago (when Dad was a spry 78 yrs old) his wrecked his truck, and his failing eyesight kept him from renewing his license. Stuck at home, and resenting the loss of his mobility, he got to thinking that a scooter might be a good idea...just the thing for those short trips to the gas station/convenience store or my brother's house nearby. He mentioned it to Mom, who promptly vetoed the idea.
"Have you lost your MIND? NO!!!"
My father was not deterred in the least. Every day, he began to pester her to take him to Ed's Cycles to look at the bikes. Every day, Mom refused. This went on for weeks...every...single...day. Finally, he threatened to just walk there if she wouldn't drive him, and he actually started walking down the street. Mom finally relented, and drove him to the motorcycle shop.
Once there, Dad walked straight over to the Harleys, and Mom turned on her heel and walked back out to sit in the car. "No. Way. I'm not going to be a part of this ridiculousness." Dad waved to her from the store window, but she would not be moved.
Finally, he brought the salesman out to talk to her and assured her that they had found something more suitable. Mom warily exited the car and followed them to the showroom. Here's what she saw:
Its top speed is only about 38 miles an hour...maybe 40, if there's a tailwind. She reluctantly agreed, only because she wanted to give Dad a chance to keep his independence.
They got it home. Dad rode it up the block, and then back down the block, and then laid the bike down in the middle of the road after losing control in some gravel.
And that was that. It went into the garage, and stayed there. Dad dutifully started it, day after day, just to make sure that it continued to function, but he never rode it again.
Mom always said that he wanted me to have it. With gas prices as high as they are, it would be the perfect ride to my school and back. I did have some trouble with it at first, but finally figured things out.
At first, I always suggested that Mom just sell it and if she really wanted me to have a scooter, then just pass the money along and I'd buy one back in Katy. But now that I'm here, and I've ridden it and run my fingers along the scratches left by Dad's wreck...I really want it. THIS scooter. Not a fancier new one, not one that goes faster...THIS one. Because it was Dad's.
I know he only rode it once, but to me, it symbolizes his determined spirit, his desire to do things his own way, his passion for living. How could I just sell it, and buy some new, empty machine with no feeling attached to it? There may come a day when I choose to buy a bigger, better, faster scooter, but not yet...not just yet.
So laugh at me if you will. I know that I'm not exactly the most macho figure on the road with my little red scooter...but I'm ok with that.
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