Thumping and bumping down New South Head Road today... dad strapped into the back of the wheelchair taxi... brought back memories of childhood. From childhood to graduation, my parents owned a flesh colored Pontiac Parisienne. The car couldn't have been further influenced by France if it tried! If it was a Parisienne... then I was a Nobel prize winner or ?!?!? ... (Sidenote: dad used to tell the story of me bailing out the door halfway down the block when he used to drive me to high school. I was so embarrassed about being driven in a car the same color as human flesh and as long as a boat that I used to jump ship a mile out at sea!) He would pick up visitors at the airport in this car, and always, they would marvel. "Wow Norm, this car drives so smooth." And dad, proud as punch, would always smile quietly to himself. How could it not drive smooth... it was a boat!
These were the thoughts running through my head as we bumped down the road to the doctor's office towards St Vincent's hopsital. (All those years of dad picking out cars that had a smooth ride. And indeed... when he rode in my Honda Civic's... he would always complain of the lack of suspension... "Was that a speed bump? Oh, we only crossed over the painted line.") Here dad had been so particular about a vehicle's performance, and now he was relegated to the rather bumpy backseat of a wheelchair taxi.
We went to dad's first neurologist consult here in Sydney. I was very impressed with how thorough the doctor was. And realized how much dad's Parkinson's has diminished him in the past 6 months... from living independently with assistance, to full care. The doctor was asking questions about certain functions... I commented that we were dealing with memory loss when urology complications took over. We were dealing with urology complications when a fall and a long hospital stay. At which time we moved overseas, then another fall occurred. Then we had to get him settled into full care. Whew! Is it any wonder we've come out the other end, worse for wear! Poor dad. (Poor me... haha!) Seems like there is a course of events to take place... with a follow up visit in another 6 weeks. More taxi rides. I don't mind. It sure beats the waves of panic and nausea I had in Canada prior to dad's neurolgy visits, where his life had yet to be sorted out and I felt the weight of responsiblity and the unknown on my shoulders.
Post doctor visit, we lunched at the hospital, then had coffee down the road. Dad handled both quite well, slipping in and out of cognition, which is normal these days. He seemed to understand where he was... with me updating him every five minutes as to the area we were passing through... it wouldn't be hard! Since the wheelchair taxi is so handy and helpful, I started to foresee future outings. Like his daughter following him, dad has always had a love for the Sydney Opera House. Coffee at the Opera Bar coming up!
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