Taking the Keys

Orville Smith on left standing by fully restored Corvette convertibleI have faced cancer, the death of a brother and my father, and yet, if I were asked my most difficult challenge, it would be taking the keys away from my father in law.

This man was driving a tractor on his father's farm in Oklahoma by the time he was 10 years old. He was a body and fender man in his later career and could recite chapter and verse on any car ever made. He prided himself on owning classic models, such as a Zimmer, several Corvettes, Mustangs and T-birds. My father in law was a fixture at car shows, show and shines and parts stores. When it came to cars, my father in law was like Norm in the Cheers Bar. Everyone knew his name and reputation behind the wheel and under the hood.

Then came the day when we noticed dents and dings in his truck. A scrape of paint here and there on the garage wall or post, and his lack of recollection has to how it happened. His natural reaction was to blame my mother in law, who never drove the truck.

One day, we drove out to the country to visit a friend of his. He was certain of the way, but at one point became confused. Before I could stomp my foot on the floorboard or brace myself on the dashboard, we were careening over a ditch as he decided to make a u-turn on the  little two lane country road.

But the real decision maker was when he pulled onto a busy highway, going the wrong way. Semi trucks were dodging us, horns blaring, as I quickly tried to assess if grabbing the wheel from him was prudent or ultimate suicide.

His doctor gave him a standardized test for seniors that determines the ability to drive. My father in law failed the test. The doctor tried to explain what this meant but my father in law became agitated, jumped up and told the doctor in no uncertain terms where he could put his test.

Suffering from Alzheimer's, my father in law had reached a point of no return and not only was his life at risk, but those who shared the road and passenger seat. At first, he was content to let us drive him, but if not monitored, he would forget his plight and jump into his truck and drive off before we could stop him.

We tried hiding the keys, but that became more of a screaming match between him and my mother in law, as she desperately tried to explain to him why the truck was there but the keys were not.

By Oregon law, my father in law was required to surrender his license at the Motor Vehicle Department. It was my job to take him.

The pain in his eyes, the slump of his body, the agony on his face as he  waited for his number to be called, is something I will never forget. We sat there, without a word between us. He walked to the window when they called him. I handed the woman his license. She showed no more emotion than if it was a fishing license. He had to take a new picture for his ID card. It may as well have been a mug shot for the shame that crossed his face as the camera flashed.

We walked out to the car and sat quietly in the parking lot. He looked at me and asked if he would ever be able to drive again. He told me of his first experience behind the wheel of the tractor in glorious detail, yet within a few minutes, he was not sure why we were at DMV.

It would be dishonest of me to say that once the deed was done, we all lived happily ever after. The battles continued. He would sit in his truck and sleep for hours. He was angry, demanding and sometimes hateful over losing the last vestige of his dignity and independence. When he reached a state in the disease where these issues were no longer part of his consciousness, he would remark that the one thing he always wanted was a four door truck.

There is no easy way through this maze. For some it is easier, for others, it is the torture of the damned. My advice is to consult your family doctor. He was truly the most helpful and sympathetic. Other than that, I can honestly say, taking the keys away from a parent may be difficult beyond words, but it is a life saving necessity and on some level, brings peace of mind for everyone.

You are welcome to tell your own story and how you have faced this dilemma.