Never Too Old To Ride

“God is good!" Dad said with the utmost sincerity upon his arrival home from the hospital in August of '96. He was happy to be alive.

It had been a critical week, his doctors diligently attempting to halt the advancing ravaging effects of his diabetes. He would have to be confined to bed for a number of days, so upon his arrival home my brother Carl came up with a most ingenious "intercom" system. He strung a line of nylon cord from the four posters of my parents' bed, attaching a copper cowbell in the center. Whenever Dad needed something or simply got lonely he would tip the cowbell with his hand or a toe, and his problem was solved. I remember on my first visit; he showed me how quickly it got him some attention. He got such a kick out of that!

But there was certainly no holding Mr. Sawdust down when he was feeling "better".

What is better? At this point it was functioning with only 50% vision in one eye, legal blindness in the other; the use of one leg partially gone. It was feeling generally weak and "lousy" from the effects of diabetes. But not too lousy to take a trip to Pennsylvania to see some of his Grandkids.

And never too lousy to take a spin on a fast motorcycle.

That's right—a fast motorcycle!

The following is an excerpt from my book, One Family's Journey through Alzheimer's. The incident was priceless and how thankful I am today that I happened to have a video camera!

My Dad, 75, had been hospitalized due to a fractured spine and complications with Diabetes. It was touch and go as to whether he would make it. We were all greatly relieved and so thankful that he did pull through, but we’re all aware his condition was weakened. Having lost most vision in one eye and 50 percent in the other and the use of one leg, a visit to our home was quite an undertaking.

He stepped outside the house and was noticeably intrigued with Jamie’s new motorcycle. His mind is as sharp as ever. It just happens to be trapped in this frail body.

Want to go for a ride, Grandpa?” Jamie asked. “Surely he was joking,” I thought.
“Really?” my dad asked. “I’d love to!”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I tried to discourage this event, but as he put on the helmet and somehow got his bad leg over the seat behind Jamie, I ran into the house to grab the video camera. I prayed as I filmed. As they pulled out of the driveway and took off around the block I could hear the roar of the 600cc racing engine as it steadily built up speed. It sounded like it was moving fast. I could only hope both wheels were on the ground! I continued to pray. They returned moments later up the driveway. My dad slowly hopped off and removed his helmet.

He let out a shrill —”O-O-O-E-E-E!

“I wouldn’t have missed that for anything!” he added.

My mom apparently had no idea what had gone on in that short time he had stepped outside the house. When I showed her the video months later she was not nearly as excited as he had been.

I hesitate, though, to call this a “heroic last venture”. You never know with my dad. After all he’s only 75, and I know for a fact he’s never tried rappelling, Australian style.