MOM'S ACCIDENT

It's the call every adult child with an aging parent dreads.

"Mom's had an accident", my sister told me. "No one was hurt."

Not this time, I thought to myself. But what about the next? Or do we let there be a next time?

This was, after all, her second accident. Or at least only the second  where the police were called in.  The numerous scrapes and dents on her car confirmed the fact that she was hitting things like poles and curbs and garage doors, just not other cars,  thank goodness.

I remembered the first one.  I got an email instead of a call from my brother.  Mom had apparently run a stop sign and hit another vehicle.  She said it wasn't that bad. After all, no one was hurt.

Not bad.  Really?  Her car was totaled.  That's pretty bad in my book. Said she was going to buy another car when the insurance money came through. We all put our feet down and refused to drive her to any car dealerships.  We would not be party to her getting another weapon of mass destruction if we could help it. She seethed for days about that.

It was also time for her to renew her driving license. I was grateful. That meant the authorities would put an end to her reign of terror on the motor ways of a medium-sized town in Iowa. Much better to have the state police take her license away than one of her kids. She couldn't disinherit the "statie" now could she?

So much for my gratitude. My mom studied the driver's manual like she was going to sit for the CPA exam. She could tell you how many feet you had to park from a fire hydrant and how many car lengths you had to leave in front of you if you were traveling at 65 mph.  It didn't help. She flunked the written test. Unfortunately, by only one answer. That gave her all the encouragement she needed to take it again.  And this time she did pass. Her joy was our disappointment. She had a new license but no car.  All dressed up and nowhere to go as she would say.  That didn't last long.

One of the ladies in her apartment complex had failing health and was moved to a nursing home. This lady happened to own a 2005 Buick LaSabre and would no longer have any use for it. Pardon this small digression but have you noticed a strong attraction to Buicks after you reach your 70's?

Back to the story. My mom inquired and the lady's children were more than happy to sell it to her. Without leaving the confines of her apartment, my mom now had a new car and was back on the road. We were afraid...we were very afraid.

With good reason. There came her second accident. The police asked my sister who had rushed to the scene if she wanted our mother to drive anymore.  "Absolutely not," was her reply. We thought once again that the state would solve our problem for us. Wishful thinking on our part.

We expected a letter to come that mandated she be re-tested. So far, one month after the accident, she hasn't received anything from the Motor Vehicle Division.  And she's still driving. I would have thought she might be afraid but her need for freedom must override that fear.

She did tell me that she had insurance coverage until the end of August and she would evaluate her options at that time. So now it looks like we adult children get to have that "crucial conversation" with our octogenarian mother. Not something any of us look forward to. We don't know how to play this one.  Do we get hard-ass? Do we use scare tactics? Do we plea with her to give it up?  It's a tough one.

I know it has to happen though. I keep thinking of the old adage, "third time's a charm" and don't want her to have that third chance. I can't imagine the guilt we'd all have if she hurt a person the next time. And I'm sad to think what she'll be giving up. No more running to the grocery store if she's out of milk. No more heading off to the casino to play her beloved slot machines to brighten a dreary day in the middle of winter in Iowa. No more driving herself to the thrift shop where she volunteers. 

Yes, I know she can get rides from my siblings, use the van at the apartment, take cabs, call the Area Agency on Aging for their elderly transportation services. She can indeed get to everywhere she wants to go without ever sitting behind the wheel again. Still. We all know it's not the same.

And for that reason, I feel a tremendous sadness and loss for my mother, the woman who, for years, chauffeured  five children across town to dance lessons, cheerleading practice, sporting events, school plays, and friends' houses without batting an eye. I wish she could drive safely forever.