Boys Meet Doctor, part two

We were right outside of Philadelphia when a conversation ensued about the value of social media. Neither son is on Facebook; one signed up for twitter just to follow a guy called "shit my dad says." (If you haven't checked him out, please do so. If you don't think he's funny, try "Jesus never said.")

Anyway, while I was defending the merits of social media, I missed my exit to the hospital. Now I'm trying to follow the GPS as it tells me that it's
recalculating. After finding myself in downtown Philadelphia, I say rather loudly, "everyone stop talking so I can get us to the doctor's office.

Three more turns and we're on our way down a familiar stretch of road when Pete erupts the social media conversation with his "dad voice" to say, "OK, here's what's gonna happen. (silence) Beth's going to pull up to the valet. One of you is going to get my rollator, the other is going to get the door." After a brief moment to process, one of them says, "Ok Dad, when it's time - just yell 'Go team red." Pete informs them that he'll do no such thing. But just as he I pulled up to the valet and Pete yelled, "Go team red."

Everyone jumps out, one with the door, the other with the rollator, me handing over the keys and in minutes we're turning the corner to the neurology suite.

I resisted for a long time asking the boys for help. They're not boys; they're 34 and 29 years old. They're successful men. One with a family of his own. But I want them to be Pete's sons, not his caregiver. I want to shield them from that responsibility. That's my "mom" reason.

But there is another reason: I don't want them to have to care for me. I'm the caregiver not the care receiver. I'd only need their help if I lacked skills or resources. Perhaps I'd need their help if I got in over my head. Their father is clearly in over his head. He has a chronic illness. Their father needs help, not me.

Here's the thing... I haven't fooled them. They know that I need help and they've been trying to find ways to help me for years. (When Dan drops our granddaughter, Julia off on Friday, he takes the garbage out.) They know that we both need help. And they would love nothing more than to offer concrete, tangible help but I'd to be self-sufficient.

After one day of taking them to the doctor with me, I've learned my lesson.

They're funny and clever and strong and smart. I need them with me as much as they need me with them. I spent years feeling alone while all the while they were right there with me. I spent years feeling weak when two of the strongest men I know were a phone call away. I spent years trying to hold things together when together we are meant to hold one another.

I understand why they don't completely understand the merits of social media. They don't need a website to be connected to that which is important to them. We're all right here in the car... and all anyone has to say is "Go team red."