“How much longer do you think we’re going to let you drive?” my son asks me. Is he kidding? Well, he’s only half kidding. He doesn’t really think I shouldn’t be driving anymore. Yet. But when will he really think it?
I drive with supreme caution when one of my kids (or grandkids – the little spies) are in the car. I do everything with supreme caution when I’m around them. I walk the stairs carefully. I carry my bagged grocery items with the greatest ease. I remember to turn off the oven when I take something out of it. I exit the bathtub with extreme caution. I try to cover it when I can’t think of a word – I don’t need to do that with my friends; they get it. But my kids – in their fifties – haven’t experienced this yet. Or have they? Are they, too, beginning to feel things start to slip, and are they seeing their future in me? Or are they just angels trying to protect me? I may never know. Most likely, it’s a little of both.
And I’m not complaining. I know I’m lucky to have them. But the truth is, I’m also a little afraid. Could they take my car away? I’ve read that what most people don’t know about dementia is that it’s not all or nothing. Which means you could have trouble finding the right word at times, or forget where you put your house keys, but you’re still okay to drive. Or it could be the other way around. But often if children see their parents slipping in one area, the first thing they think is that it’s no longer safe for them to drive.
It’s a fine line to walk. For now, I’m going to continue being careful and lying if necessary – or shall we say covering a bit – whenever I’m around anyone who could take my car keys. And being hopeful that they are able to see through the cover-up if and when the time comes that I really need their help. Something tells me they’ll see through it and then some.
Norma Libman is a journalist and lecturer who has been collecting women’s stories for more than twenty years. You can read the first chapter of her award-winning book, Lonely River Village, at NormaLibman.com.