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Some related articles : Elderly die at a record pace behind the wheel
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"Dad, Please Let Me Have the Car Keys"
I swung by my
84 year old father’s assisted living home to take him to an appointment.
A couple of years earlier Max Knechtel had suffered a broken a hip. Slowly
and cheerfully he walked to my car with his cane. We were on our way to
see his orthopedist for a regular checkup. As I helped
him into the car, I glanced at his car parked across the way. During a
mild heart attack, he had recently driven himself to the hospital. When I
questioned him, he said he felt there was no need to go to the expense and
trouble of an ambulance. After all, he’d been driving for well over
sixty years. He was able to manage just fine. Max had always been defined
by a strong will. Following his
hip fracture, I had witnessed serious deterioration in my Dad’s driving
skills. Simply put, he was an unsafe driver. When I broached the topic, he
wouldn’t listen. Before the
orthopedic appointment, I spoke to his doctor about my concerns. He said
he frequently dealt with the driving issue. In no uncertain terms, he knew
how to put it to his elderly patients. I sat in on
the appointment, and sure enough, the good doctor emphatically laid down
the law – no more driving! There was no visible response. Just silence.
The doctor pressed, “Do you understand?” My father mumbled something
like, “I hear you”. That was it, nothing further said. Outside the
office, we stood for a moment in silence, my father and I together, alone.
In as mild a tone as I could, I said, “Well?” “Well what!”, he
growled. I said, “Dad, please let me have the car keys”. He stared
intently at some distant hills. It was a look of profoundly unhappy
realization, stubborn resistance to the inevitable, frustration, denial
and ebbing strength. His eyes closed and flashed open several times. As a highly
respected geologist, Max Knechtel had ventured over much of the planet. In
the 1920s, there was a geologic safari in Angola followed by two years
with nothing but mules for transport in the Venezuelan Andes and a
scientific expedition by canoe down the length of the Yukon. Later, two
companions had been killed, trapped in a raging Montana forest fire. Max
survived. Now, his
world was inexorably diminishing, the evidence plainly in front of him
with his son about to take away his car keys. His expressions and demeanor
remain imprinted indelibly on my psyche. The interlude seemed
interminable. He could fight with me and with himself, but not his doctor.
At long last,
he sank a trembling hand in his pocket and produced the keys. He gazed at
them. I had to reach to take them, his last symbol of independence. We
returned to the home, not a word spoken. I departed emotionally drained. Very shortly, we sold his car. It ended an intense rite of passage. FAIR USE NOTICE: This page contains copyrighted material the use of which has not been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. Global Action on Aging distributes this material without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes. We believe this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in 17 U.S.C § 107. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond fair use, you must obtain permission from the copyright owner.
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