Journal entry from Dec 17. A little dated, but relevant:
We had a late one last night. A Christmas party at Ella’s, and this was way beyond Dad’s stamina rating. He was a hot mess coming home. Okay, I was kinda sorta, but he needed a walker to get to the car. I think we’re going to start traveling with his in the trunk, just ’cause.
We got lucky here. Ella’s 92 and not always so steady on her feet. Though I’ve never seen her with it, she does have a walker she keeps around the house. Dad used it to the car and I brought it back right away.
His balance is shot. Falls over a lot. Part of it is aftereffects from his strokes, part of it from a bad leg, and also because he’s top-heavy. Still a tall guy, and he really does look like a busted construction crane tottering down the street when he walks.
He keeps his walker in the bedroom, where it holds extra blankets. He really needs to use it, but I’m not gonna make him. You gotta understand this. It’s a guy thing.
Mom would have pushed him, perhaps badgered him to use the walker. She was protective that way, and never would have understood how we guys think.
I still had to make the executive call. We have three walkers around the house. His blanket rack is one. Mom’s old one sits in the garage, and there’s no way he’ll want to use that one. The third was kicking around, and now sits in the trunk. Just in case he needs it.
I really expect him to bite the bullet and use his fairly soon. But he has to make the choice. He may have lost a lot of his faculties, but he still has some pride and dignity. Don’t want to take that from him.