The Big White Beast

When my parents came to the realization that they would need a vehicle with a wheelchair lift as my mother's condition worsened, my dad found a monster of a van online. It somehow made its way from Minnesota (where the previous owners lived) to my dad and it was affectionately dubbed "The Big White Beast." Their other car was always known as "The Big Red Beast," so the name made sense to our strange family. The BWB came to be quite handy, as my parents lived half of their year in Maine and half of their year in Arizona and drove back and forth (with two cats). The last summer that my mom was able to go to Maine, she was in her wheelchair and was having a relatively hard time doing everything. My dad had to to everything for her except minor things like wiping her nose and putting on her glasses. As their trip neared, it became apparent to everyone that my dad wasn't going to be able to drive all that way, do everything for my mom, and keep track of those damn cats. I thought it would be fun for me to spend some quality time with my parents and especially help my dad with some of the driving and lifting. Throughout my mom's illness not only were we watching my mom get sicker but we also saw my dad getting more and more frail, and it worried everyone in the family. It frightened me to think of my dad driving 4,000 miles hardly sleeping and being totally exhausted all the time. So I flew to Arizona and helped pack up the car with suitcases, snacks, the wheelchair, "the vest" (to be explained in subsequent post...) tons of medical equipment and breathing mechanisms, a kitty litter box, tons of random sized pieces of sheepskin (a crucial item for someone in a wheelchair), sippy cups, tissues, mix CDs of great country music, and off we went. Our journey took ten days, and my wonderful husband met me in Maine with our dog at the end. Each day I learned new things about my parents and I saw how amazing their love for each other was. I learned a lot about my mom and about our ability to communicate what we were thinking and feeling by just looking at each other. I learned that I have an extremely low tolerance for people who use handicapped toilets when they are not handicapped, to the point that I yelled out in crowded bathrooms "It's a miracle, you are cured!" and "Oh, wait, you forgot your wheelchair!" when people walked out of the stall. I learned that if you are driving a handicapped conversion van in Oklahoma at 101 miles an hour, you will be pulled over and ridiculed by your father in front of a police officer. I learned that when someone knows they are going to die, they tell you that they love you about 40 times a day. Most importantly, on that crazy trip across our amazing country, I learned that I would do anything for my family and that they would do anything for me. I am so glad I went.