Lawrence and I both had the opportunity to attend an art conference in New York City in March of 2007. We took our youngest son, Jacob, and had a marvelous time. It was the first time I had ever been to NYC and the city seemed even more wonderful than what I had heard about it. On our way back to Kentucky, we went out of our way to visit Mom and Dad Gridley in Bath, NY. Lawrence’s brother, John, had been there during the holidays. Lawrence and I were shocked at how thin and unsteady his father had become. We took them out to eat to their favorite buffet and Lawrence’s dad could not manage to get himself what he wanted from the buffet because of his unsteadiness, so we served him. He could not get enough to eat! He seemed starved! Yet they would not come with us back to Kentucky.

After three more visits to their home in Bath by Lawrence and his brother, and other relatives who begged for Lawrence and John to do something, we met there during the Thanksgiving break in November. Eating Thanksgiving dinner with Mom and Dad Gridley at the “Chat a Whyle” restaurant is a happy memory. Lawrence had insisted that I accompany him on this visit, but I had already determined I would go because I felt a moral obligation to help. I had been working behind the scenes to find help for them from the community. One of the places I called was the Veteran’s Center in Bath, which is a large historic medical center for the region. Since Milford was a veteran from WWII, I was hoping they could help in some way, and indeed they did. I can’t remember the woman’s name, but she agreed to meet us at Marjorie and Milford’s home. She was an invaluable resource in our time of need. She respectfully described the facts for Marjorie and Milford and gave them a choice: go with your family and allow them to help you, or stay here and let the state government authorities decide what will happen to you.

The woman from the VA knew that Milford had received a ticket for scraping another car as he was parking in downtown Bath the week before. She told me that because Bath is such a small town, she had relationships with many people in the community and knew all about Milford. When Milford’s doctor revoked his chauffeur’s license so he could no longer drive the bus, I wish the doctor could have called a family member and someone in the community whose job it is to help aging seniors get what they need to live without driving. However, for all I know, someone may have offered something like Meals on Wheels to Marjorie and Milford. They may have refused it as they refused our help and other offers from community services. Milford was due to appear in court in a few days. The woman from the VA gave Milford and Marjorie a choice: Stay here and go to court, or go with your family and trust them to help you. Even in his dementia, Milford knew that going to court was a bad thing, and that going to court might change his life for the worse. Marjorie was more stubborn, but finally agreed to come with us. She packed and we planned to leave the next day. John spent the night there; Lawrence and I stayed in a motel. We made a trip to the store to buy adult incontinence briefs for Milford  to wear on the journey home.

Lawrence and I arrived as planned the next morning and we all went out to breakfast. We returned to the house and started to pack the van for the trip. Just as we finished, Marjorie said, “I’m not going, I’ve changed my mind”. Then she sat down on the couch, in a pose that said, “You will have to make me to take me”. I have never shown my mother in law any disrespect, and could not tell her to do anything, ever. She was my elder, but she was making a bad decision. I remember feeling exasperated but I don’t remember what I said. I don’t clearly remember how she finally got in the car, but I think it was my brother in law, John, who convinced her.

John rode in a separate vehicle. I was in the back seat next to my mother in law, Lawrence drove and his father was in the front passenger seat. Marjorie was known to talk a lot. She did not need eye contact or any engagement from her prisoner, I mean, listener. Her breath reeked of cigarettes and poor dental hygiene, plus coffee and nerves. I tried to look away from her and out the window to escape, but it was inescapable. Marjorie talked non-stop the whole trip, the entire 18 hour trip. Yes, usually the trip is ten hours, but that day it was 18 hours. She did take a little break from her non-stop talking when we stopped to use the rest room or when we pulled over so she could smoke a cigarette. Marjorie repeated the same stories I had heard many times before about her childhood and her life with her children. They are wonderful stories and very entertaining for the first couple of times I heard them. I have them memorized still. I cheerfully endured the torture of that trip because I felt sorry for Marjorie. Someday I may be in the same situation, and I hope my daughter in law shows me the same compassion that I showed Marjorie on that day.

Because of the frequent bathroom stops, the lengthy time we stopped to eat, and the seasonal short days, darkness fell about halfway into our journey. All of a sudden, without any warning, as we were going 70 miles per hour down the expressway, Milford tried to jump out of the van! I grabbed him from the back seat and Lawrence grabbed his father’s arm as he swerved to pull to the shoulder and park. Milford still had his door open and wanted to get out. We tried to reason with him, but he said the car was going to crash, that he was driving it and the brakes were not working! We stayed there a while talking with him, and when he calmed down, we pulled off at the next exit so we could ALL calm down. We bought some duck tape to tape his door shut after he got in. Then I saw a flashlight and had an idea. Milford said he was driving, but he could not brake. I thought if he could see that there was no brake on his side, he might feel better. I bought the flashlight and gave it to Milford after we got back in and resumed our trip back to our house. Milford loved the flashlight! He turned it on and off over and over, shining it on the floor where the brakes would be if he was driving. We reassured him over and over too, that Lawrence was driving and that he didn’t need to worry. It’s a family joke that Lawrence’s driving worries everybody, so Milford’s reaction was completely understandable. It is good to keep a sense of humor.

We noticed that at every stop, Marjorie was limping. We had never noticed it before. Lawrence and I thought maybe she was experiencing psychosomatic symptoms because of the difficulty Milford was having with walking. We were so focused on Milford, walking with him wherever we were, helping him in and out of the car, into restrooms, etc. Perhaps Marjorie was feeling left out, we reasoned. Marjorie never complained of any ailment. In fact, she bragged about how healthy she was repeatedly.

We arrived home at long last, and Marjorie seemed so pleased with her new home, which was a relief. I think she was relieved, too. She had endured much in the previous year but now she had us to help take care of Milford. I had turned my studio into a lovely bedroom for them, and because it was so late, we all went to bed soon after we arrived home. Milford was giddy, laughing as we said our goodnights. He had always been a happy, affable man who loved his family. And I loved him.

That was on a Saturday. Monday I had to return to my job as a middle school teacher, and Lawrence to his job as an elementary school teacher. Our youngest son was finishing his senior year of high school. The real adventure was just beginning.

To be continued….