"Elder Rage, or Take My Father... Please!: How to Survive Caring for Aging Parents "

"Liar Liar, Pants on Fire" Sample book chapter from "Elder Rage"

Dad had not tried to drive since his foot “slipped” off the brake taking us on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride in the carport. Once I was gone, however, he started telling Ariana that he wanted to drive again. I told her to keep the car keys with her at all times and to just evade his pleas with distractions. One day she saw him going out the back door with his jacket on. “Where ya going, Jake?” she called after him.

“ Ohhh, I’m gonna take a little ride. Please give me my keys and please move your car.”

“Umm, it’s a bit too dangerous for you to drive because you don’t see that well, but I’d be happy to take you wherever you’d like to go.”

“I’m the boss here and I say move your car right now!”

“Well, I’m sorry. I know it must be very hard on you, but I can’t let you hurt yourself or some innocent person now can I?”

“Goddamn it! I was driving Model T’s before your grandmother was born. You work for me and you do what I say, or else,” he yelled, inches from her face, pounding his fists on the kitchen table again. (It’s really amazing that it’s not concave by now.)

Ariana didn’t flinch—she’d learned my mother’s technique already.
Later that day— Ariana came back from the store, threw her purse in her room and got Mom up to go to the pottie. Dad sprinted out of bed, doing the ten-yard shuffle racing into her room. Ariana’s little Gary yelled, “Mommy, Mommy, he took the keys out of your purse!”

“Jaaake,” she said to her other child, “give me the car keys. It’s too dangerous for you to drive. Where would you like to go? Come on, let’s go out for a nice ride. I’d be happy to take you if you give me the keys.”

His wrinkled nose started to grow. “I don’t have ’em.” She tried every which way to persuade him into giving her the keys on his own. No luck all day. Nope, he just didn’t have them. I tried to talk some sense into him.

“Oh Dad, I’m sorry you can’t drive anymore. I know how much you love driving, but we can’t risk an accident. What if you hurt someone? Wouldn’t you feel just awful? Please give Ariana the car keys.”

“I don’t know where they are—I swear to God.”

“If you won’t give her the keys on your own, you’re forcing me to have to get them away from you forcefully. You don’t want to go through that do you?” He went into a rambling rage calling me every nasty name he could think of and then hung up on me. Yeah, yeah, I know—I’m a bitch, I’m a sleazy whore again. Gee, no new terms of endearment?

Mom got so upset with his screaming rampage she passed out at the table, headfirst, right into her mashed potatoes. Ariana rushed to the phone, but Dad physically blocked her attempt to reach it with his outstretched arms and wouldn’t let her call 911.

“You let her go,” he commanded. “That’s what she wants!” She must have just fainted because she came to quickly and Ariana asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. “No! I just want to go to my bed and go to sleep, and I hope I don’t wake up to this living hellhole.” My poor Mom.

When I checked my answering machine that evening my father had left me several nasty messages saying that if I took his car keys away he’d, “Put a curse on me—so help me God!” Perfect, a new Creedence Clearwater theme song for the week: “I put a spell on you.” Ummm, gee, could you possibly remove the existing curse, prior to putting on the new curse, Mr. Hocus Pocus Voodoo Maniac?

I told Ariana to wait until he went to sleep and then she could find the keys. She was up all night trying to find them and then called me exasperated when nothing turned up. “Did you check in his shoes?”

“Jackie, I swear to you, I have looked absolutely everywhere and they are not here,” she said in total exhaustion.

“Hmmm, they’re on his body then, I’m sure of it. Did you check inside little Napoleon’s jacket? He kept his hand in there for a reason.”

“Yesss, I patted him down and they aren’t in his pockets. I can’t imagine what he did with them.” Hmmm, tricky little dictator.

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