Three Days in Philly

I downed one last sip, then set my travel mug back in the cup holder by my seat in my van. I needed all the caffeine I could swallow.

Soon, I met up with my mom at the wheelchair assistance counter in the Atlanta airport, Red Rollator Walker in tow.  Mom has been battling severe plantar fasciitis and borrowed a friend's orthopedic boot to manage our trip. So with my energy issues and her new limp, we  rode in style to our gate.

We arrived at my grandparent's two room apartment on the outskirts of Philadelphia, PA by mid-afternoon. They've lived in Riddle Village for almost twenty years. At 94 years of age, Grandma's health and Grandpa's Alzheimer's forced them to move to assisted living last winter. Grandpa wandered off one time last spring, so he now wears a bracelet that activates an alarm system when he leaves their floor.

So when we walked in the door and grandma said, "We'd like to go out for dinner tonight!" mom and I knew our adventure had taken a new twist. It became even more clear when Grandpa perused a menu and asked the waiter, "What's a French Fry?"

While I'd lugged my lap top through the airport hoping to get some writing done while we were away, I soon realized we'd entered an all consuming vortex. Grandpa needed new shoes and clothes. Badly. The soles on his favorite pair were falling off. Grandma was a bit stir crazy, her life limited by grandpa's illness and bracelet. Normally excited to take us to the fancy restaurant in their building, grandma just wanted to be out. Away. Free from the limits that bombard their aging lives.

So we maneuvered for three days with mom in a boot, me on my red walker; grandma, quite slow on her grey walker; and grandpa experiencing the world through the haze called Alzheimer's.

And it was crazy good.

For one, I haven't flown in three years. Traveling when chronically ill poses daunting challenges and forces one to face their limitations head on. I can maneuver around them when home. But when I navigate long hallways for days (even beautiful hallways in a retirement home), my legs tire and require assistance.

Second, while I long to make my statement in this world just like many others, putting my work aside to wander through life with the hobbling ones enriched me more than any words I can offer. News web sites, FB, twitter, and more regale us with stories, both humorous and tragic and all in between. The onslaught of information overwhelms me at times yet beckons my attention all the same.

Leaving it behind to just live with others in need enriched me in a way that reminds me to leave it behind more often. There are lives, real lives to be touched. Grandparents who need a lift. Grandpas who need new shoes - even when they argue the old ones shouldn't be thrown away because they're perfect for going out to the barn and feeding the chickens he hasn't fed since childhood.

By overcoming the insecurities that have plagued me when leaning on a walker or cane, I was able to make a difference for mom, my grandparents, and me. And I hope to travel that way again soon.

photo credit: Public Places via photopin cc
photo credit: Through Painted Eyes via photopin cc
photo credit: Through Painted Eyes via photopin cc
photo credit: babasteve via photopin cc