Grandpa is Nuts About Driving and Driving You Nuts

Last week an endearing gentleman came in to my independent living community looking for an apartment.  He was 88.  We talked for several minutes; I found him to be vibrant and spry, but also frail. He walked slowly with a cane because his balance was unsteady. Initially, he said he was looking for a new apartment in a place where he could make friends.  He appeared to be lonely.  After we talked for several minutes he confessed, “It is almost time for me to give up the car keys.  It would be helpful to live somewhere that provides transportation.”  I looked surprised, and misjudging the reason behind my surprise, he continued to explain, “ one eye is covered with a cataract, and the other is blurred with half a cataract.  It is becoming very difficult for me to see.” 
I kept my face expressionless, struggling not to react while he continued to describe his infirmities, although I was alarmed that he was still behind the wheel.  I agreed with him that he would benefit a great deal if he lived where transportation was provided, and thought to myself, “ and add to the safety of other drivers.”



The hardest of all judgment calls during the process of aging is to give up the car keys.  It is devastating to loose the autonomy to come and go at whim.  As one gets older, doctor appointments are vital, the liberty of shopping at Wal-Mart is not merely an activity, but an outing, and going out to dinner is a special occasion.  Once that independence is lost, there are few alternatives. Public transportation is limited, and children and friends try to be accommodating, but they have busy lives, and we cringe at the idea of becoming a burden. 



Several years ago, I received a phone call from the Seven Eleven gas station across the street from my community.  The owner was frantic.  One of our residents had backed into a car as he was pulling away from the pump, then edged forward and rammed into the side of another car.  He panicked, shifted into reverse, and hit the original car a second time. “Please come get your resident,” the distraught proprietor pleaded over the phone. My maintenance director rushed to  rescue my eighty year old before he could slam into another vehicle, and a family came later in the day to claim the bruised sedan. 



In one city, the windows in my office faced the parking lot.  Every day I watched residents with walkers teeter toward their cars, pull themselves up, sturdy themselves with their hands against the top of the passenger door, and panting and rasping, manipulate their frail bodies behind the wheel. In their minds, they felt cognizant, alert and physically able to drive, but our minds can paint a brighter picture than our bodies can accommodate.  I knew if push came to shove, there would be disastrous consequences if they had react quickly to prevent an accident. 



 One afternoon I glanced outside to see a resident back into a “no parking” sign.  He did not realize he had hit it, and continued to back up until the sign arched backward.   He pulled forward, vigorously turning the wheel to clear the curb, reversed, hit the sign a second time, and the battered metal leaned sadly just inches from the ground. I ran to warn him, but he'd already given it a third try, and by the time I got there, his tail lights were trailing down the street, too late for me to save the sign from another blow. 



Not long afterward a family member rushed into my office to report, " A white haired older woman just rammed into the car in the space behind her. Then she pulled forward and drove away as if nothing had happened." Keeping the benefit of the doubt in mind, it is possible that the driver didn’t realize there had been a fender bender, but more than likely, she did. She panicked; because if someone discovered her mishap, there was a strong possibility her kids would confiscate her car keys.  The young woman who saw the accident couldn’t (or wouldn’t) identify the driver, but in the meantime, I had to locate the owner of the damaged car, and with my cheeks blushing from embarrassment, report the hit and run.


A person must eventually admit that driving is a privilege.    As kids, we can't wait until we are sixteen to receive our driver’s license, but there are no guidelines for relinquishing it when age works against us. "The Muffin Lady” (profiled 11/13/11) had been injured in an accident in which she was at fault.  After that she was afraid to drive and would say, “One should quit driving when one becomes timid and hesitates before pulling into traffic.” Not long after her recovery from some minor injuries, she opted to move into our community.

I have been the tattletale more than once and called a son or daughter to suggest a discussion with a loved one about driving may be imminent. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be for a person to be told they are no longer able to drive safely. I am independent as long as I can come and go as I please, and I'll admit that I take for granted the freedom that it allows me.   One of the lessons I have learned from my residents is to plan for the future, and sometime within the next few years I will be obliged to realistically access my own driving skills.   Luckily, it hasn't caught up with me yet, but one dreadful day, I will have to admit, "I'm too old to drive" and as hard as it may be, willingly present the keys to my son.