I’m OkayPosted: March 17, 2014
I’ve talked before about Mom slamming the Red Menace into the door to our office so hard it’s taken it off the hinges. She does this 3 out of 4 times when she attempts to come into the room. On the way in, and again on the way out, she also tends to clip the edge of the bookcase. Since, between the unit and its contents, it probably weighs at least a couple of hundred pounds, my concern is it will come crashing down and either take out the opposite wall or Mom or both. Either way, it would definitely ruin someone’s day. And it doesn’t matter how many times I ask her NOT to try to drive into the room, that I can see her and hear her just fine from the doorway, she still continues to do it.
Last week, as Bill and I were working on a project, I heard the wheelchair motor’s quiet hum and the whisper of rubber wheels on the carpet as she drove up the hall. I assumed she was headed to her bathroom, but I was wrong. Instead of turning right into her bedroom, she stopped briefly outside the office door, then smiled as she pushed the little joystick forward.
“Don’t do it!” I yelled frantically. “Stay where you are.” But she chose to ignore me and continued moving, full steam ahead, right into the inner edge of the door where the lower hinge holds it against the doorframe. Then, instead of stopping, backing up and trying a more centered approach, she just kept pushing, probably believing that the door would magically move out of her way.
Bill and I both heard the screws rip from the wood and fiberboard. She popped off of the edge, scraped along the door’s front, clipped the edge of the bookcase, and finally came to rest next to my desk.
“Here,” she said, handing me a piece of paper.
“What is it?” I sighed, glancing nervously over her shoulder to watch the book shelf until it stopped wobbling.
“It’s a survey about the cable company. I thought you might be interested in filling it out.”
“Mom, we have satellite, not cable. Besides,” I continued, tossing the questionnaire into the waste basket, “they wouldn’t be too happy to hear anything I’d have to say about them, which is why we don’t use them anymore.”
“Oh, okay then,” she replied. She then did a smart U-turn and headed back out the door – just the way she’d come in except in reverse. First she sideswiped the book shelf, which teetered precariously for a few seconds, then slammed into the door, which bounced unevenly off the back wall and then ricocheted softly into the Red Menace’s right rear tire.
She glanced over her shoulder as she cleared the doorway and entered the hallway, then proceeded to crash into the opposite wall before straightening out and coming to a stop.
Bill and I looked at each other and then at the cockeyed office door and the now off-center, two-hundred pound bookcase.
“I’m okay!” Mom exclaimed, waving happily as she motored away.