A SENIOR JOY RIDE

MY PERSPECTIVE:

Our dad is 90. Because of a car wreck as a teenager, he has head-trauma dementia and is practically deaf. He reads lips, and you have to speak directly into his “good ear” when talking to him.

These days, dad knows us and our names and remembers stories from the past. Though dad was an artist, he has lost the ability to even draw a square. He often seeks attention, acting out in public---whether a doctor’s office, Wal-Mart or a restaurant. While my sister watches him like a hawk, he tries to steal candy at Wal-Mart. It’s hard to get him to take a shower now; dad is unpredictable.

When mom was alive, dad’s driving became erratic and dangerous. In desperation, mom asked dad’s neurologist for a letter stating dad should not drive. To our relief, it was done.

Recently, dad still drove the golf cart around their subdivision, until even his golf cart driving was scary and unpredictable so that my eldest sister, his caretaker, had to hide the keys to the golf cart. Dad is now like a bird with clipped wings, though retaining humor and annoying attention seeking behavior.

A few weeks ago, my oldest sister was hospitalized for about four days with heart attack symptoms. After thorough testing, a cardiologist determined she suffered from angina---not a heart attack or heart failure, but nonetheless heart- and stress-related.

The day after she returned home, we all knew her absence threw dad into a tailspin when he stealthily searched her purse, found the car keys and took off on what we can only call a “joy ride.” My sister was alerted upon hearing the car start and running to watch him back out of the driveway.

My youngest sister, who has lived near my parents for the last 30 years, is dad’s Durable Power of Attorney. Beside herself, she cried, threatening to sell the house and put dad into a home. We were on high alert, and my youngest sister called the police.

The police tracked dad throughout the area; it became a comical chase.

One officer found dad driving in the opposite direction and circled back.

Another officer finally caught him with sirens blaring, and dad pulled to the side of the road. When the officer approached the vehicle, dad took off again.

Finally, five officers strategically surrounded dad, forcing a stop. Thankfully, no charges were brought, but we were on pins and needles for about an hour.

One officer then drove my eldest sister, dad's caretaker, to the scene. When dad saw her, he simply said, “There she is,” thinking he was going to drive them home. She firmly said, “I am driving,” and he obediently moved to the passenger side.

The fiasco was over; and we breathed a sigh of relief. Upon returning home, my eldest sister took the car key off the chain and secretly hid it.

Dad was then confronted, and though immediately angry and belligerent, he apologized the next day, promising to never do that again.

A week or two later, once again, dad grabbed my sisters keys from her purse. He boldly said, "I’m going for a drive."

Hiding around the corner, my sister watched him fumble through the keys, trying each one in the ignition. When he knew he was duped, he scowled, admitting defeat. To dad's dismay, the car key will remain hidden.