When the Right Thing is the Hardest Thing or: He Had a Fast Car

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Last year I learned that the DMV will suspend your license if you receive a diagnosis of dementia. You get a letter and are offered the chance to appeal their decision. Doctors are required by law to notify the DMV once the diagnosis is made, and so the letter may come as a surprise, depending on how aware a person is of their cognitive decline.

I learned this because it happened to my husband. Like anyone would be, he was devastated by the suspension. Against my protests, he launched a campaign to get his license back. I won’t go into the details of what he did and what happened next, but after one failure he passed the tests and got to drive again.

Earlier this year, another neurologist  gave him some tests and confirmed the diagnosis: FTD. If you don’t know what this is and have never heard of it, I can assure you that it affects a person in a variety of unsettling and surprising ways. Should he have been allowed to keep driving? He thought so, and once again tried to get his license back. But this time, he would not be allowed to test. It is a degenerative disease and nobody wanted him to put himself or anyone else in danger down the line.

Last week, I sold his car. We were both sad about it, but he has now realized it was for the best and I did the right thing.

I’m actually grateful that the DMV won’t allow him to drive anymore. It’s a big change, but we have learned about a great service in our area for seniors that beats Uber and Lyft for cost and convenience.

The burden falls on me to manage just about everything these days. Getting rid of the car and the stress around his driving was only one small step on the long road ahead.

 

This was a hard one to write, and a belated response to an earlier prompt.

Turning Left in London

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Turning Left in London

I’ve written about our magical year in the early 1970s when my husband Danny worked in his company’s London office.  (See Laundry Day in London, Valentine’s Day in Foggytown, Kinky Boots and Intro to Cookery)

Here’s another story.

Before we left for our London sojourn we went to the DMV,  presented our New York drivers licenses,  paid a fee,  and were issued international licenses.

Once settled in London Danny enjoyed his work,  and I kept busy taking courses and learning my way around that wonderful city.  (See Inks and Derek: Art and the Cricket Scores and Munro)

Then after a few months we planned our first holiday – a road trip around Scotland.  (See Taking the High Road)

We went to a car rental agency where Danny showed  his international  license and we were given a car along with reminders about the difference between driving in the States and in Britain.

Danny,  always an excellent driver,  would be doing all the driving, and after practicing for a few blocks,  he proudly declared he’d mastered the right-side steering wheel.   And,  he assured me,  driving in the left lane on a two way road was also a piece of cake.

And then feeling fully confident  he took that first disastrous left  turn —  into the wrong lane and the oncoming traffic!

He swerved in time and we survived unscathed,  and that year we rented a few more cars,  and took a few more lovely road trips around Britain.

But apparently having an international drivers license doesn’t guarantee you’re a skilled international driver.   Altho turning right came easy,  Danny never did quite nail that bloody British left hand turn!

And we learned that even crossing the street in London can be risky unless you remember to “Look right,  then left.”  

(And it’s best to watch out for any Yankees with international drivers licenses who might be coming down the road!)

– Dana Susan Lehrman