Trying a New Flavor

After my mother died in 2013, her 10-year old rickety blue walker was adopted by my father. His own balance deteriorated after a bad fall a year ago; he couldn’t rely on a cane any longer. It was hard for him to accept that he needed help, but he liked having a constant reminder of his wife. I’ve caught Dad talking to Mom a few times while wheeling down hallways, although she’s been gone a while. I asked him if she ever answered; he smiled and said “sometimes.” When the brakes stopped working and bolts starting falling out, he insisted we fix it, and the maintenance guys did their best. I periodically suggested a new walker to no avail – after all, why pay good money when this one was perfectly functional?

I went to San Diego last week for a round of doctor visits and shopping, it’s our ongoing routine. Imagine my surprise when Dad agreed that safety prevailed and allowed me to purchase a new walker – as a “backup.” Before he changed his mind I quickly bought one, ergonomically sound with two cup holders (one for coffee and one for beer?) It was even the same color blue. He insisted we leave his name tag on the old walker so Mom could still find him. He visited his favorite physical therapist, the one who worked with him for months after his accident, explaining that he had a new Porsche needing adjustment. Afterwards he went to the onsite fitness center to ride the exercise bike for 45 minutes. He continues to build back his leg strength, and he’s enjoying chair Yoga three times a week.

I successfully packed the new walker into the rental car (it folds flat! it’s lighter and stronger!) and off we went for frozen yogurt to celebrate. Dad has eaten chocolate/vanilla swirl yogurt forever. I rarely ask which flavor because I always get the same response. This time I looked at him carefully and said “the usual, Dad?” He paused for a beat, looking back at me with bemused pride. “No,” he said. “Get me toffee crunch. It’s time for something different.”