December 24, 2019 – We received confirmation that the elevator would be working on December 23rd. Mom and I made some plans to go out. Nothing big – just running some errands.
The elevator hasn’t been working for two weeks. Nerves are frayed. Mom has been stuck in the apartment. Every phone call begins with the comment, “We’re still housebound.” I’m still able to go out because I can walk ten flights of stairs. Every time I come back from an outing, Mom asks if the elevator is working. It was funny the first few times. However, all she has to do is look at my very red face and hear my laboured breathing and she’d know it’s not working. I’m getting tired of carrying groceries up ten flights of stairs. I have lost a few pounds and am beginning to see some definition in my leg muscles. I have also developed a hernia.
I live on the 10th floor of a 12-story apartment building. There are two elevators that service the building. I asked about the elevators before I moved in. I was told that there had been problems a couple of years ago but nothing since. Two weeks after we moved in, Elevator #2 stopped working. Tenants were told that the parts were on order but there was no indication of when it would be operational. Our patience was appreciated.
Elevator #1 started having problems because of increased use. It would stop working every once in a while; usually when people were moving in or out. It stopped working on December 10th. We were promised a repair date (December 23rd) and the elevator was working by 11am that day. Mom and I went out to run errands. We made jokes about her being “free”. We drove down the street in front of our building. I asked Mom how she liked the view from the street. She had only been able to look down on the street for two weeks. We laughed. When we came back, we found out that the elevator had stopped working. Repairs were just finished and the maintenance guy was taking it for a trial run. We were able to get back to our floor.
Mom had made her hair appointment for Christmas Eve. This morning, we walked out to the elevator only to find that it wasn’t working. I could hear workers in the elevator. I leaned against the wall. “I guess we’ll have to wait.” Mom had other ideas. She walked past me to the stairwell, opened the door, and began walking down the stairs.
I was shocked and then I panicked. My mother was in no shape to walk down ten flights of stairs. She could fall. She could have a heart attack. She could die. I chased after her. I called out to her. I asked her to wait for me. She wouldn’t listen. A man on the 8th floor was standing on the landing. He asked her how she was doing. She didn’t say a word. She just blew past him like she didn’t see him. I stopped and apologized. I told him Mom was focused on making her hair appointment. I told him we were doing well and excited for Christmas. I apologized again and said I had to catch up to her.
Mom didn’t stop until she reached the first floor. She waited in the stairwell. I don’t think she knew which door to take to get to the lobby. She didn’t say a word. I looked at her and told her to wait in the lobby while I brought the car up from the underground. I accompanied her into the lobby, made sure she had a seat, and left.
I walked down another flight of stairs to my car, got inside and sat there. I was shaking. I had to pull myself together. Mom was okay. She survived. I was seething. I couldn’t believe she took that risk. She just went and I had no choice but to follow. I guess I could have just let her walk down on her own. I could have waited in the apartment. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I drove out of the underground, parked in the visitor parking and walked into the lobby. I looked at the seat where I had left mom – empty! I could hear her voice. She was in the property manager’s office. I heard “Thanks Joy!” as she walked out of the office. I looked at Mom and asked her if she was ready to go. I started walking to the car. Mom followed. When we were both seated in the car, she said, “Joy says we can stay in a hotel, if we want.” I looked at her in disbelief.
“Oh, really? Where is this hotel?”
“I don’t remember the name, exactly.”
“Do you want to go to a hotel?”
“No, do you?”
“I’m not the one who can’t walk up ten flights of stairs. I ask, again, do you want to go to a hotel?”
“No!”
I started the car and drove to the hair salon. I told Mom that I would be next door getting a pedicure and would be waiting for her when she was finished. I walked into the nail salon and sat down. I tried to enjoy my pedicure but it was impossible. I was still seething. I couldn’t believe the risk she had taken. I called my sister-in-law. I left her a message about what happened. I said that Mom wouldn’t stay in a hotel. I said I didn’t know what I was going to do and was hoping she could talk some sense into her. I asked her to call me back.
I walked over to the hair salon after I finished at the nail salon. There was Mom, sitting in the chair laughing with her stylist. Mom got up, thanked the stylist and wished her a Merry Christmas. As she put her coat on, I asked her if there was anything else she needed to do. She needed to buy a few cards. She asked if I wanted to go to lunch afterward. I was still seething and responded with a very curt “No.” We walked to the drug store, I waited by the cash while Mom bought some cards.
After mom paid for her cards, we walked back to my car. We drove back home in silence. I pulled into the visitor parking in front of the building. I looked at Mom and said, “Well, I guess we should see what’s going on before I park downstairs.” We got out of the car and walked into the lobby. People were gathered around the property manager. I saw a chair, pointed at it and told Mom to sit down. I listened intently to what the property manager was saying. They had no estimate on when the elevator would be operational. They had vouchers for people who wanted to go to a hotel for the night. A man was complaining about having his Christmas ruined.
I looked at Mom and asked her what she would like to do. “Speak up! I can’t hear you!” I realized that Mom didn’t have her hearing aids in. She doesn’t put them in when she’s going to get her hair washed in case they get wet. I repeated my question, louder. I’m sure the whole lobby heard me. She said she’d wait. This didn’t help an already-charged situation.
“You can’t sit here all afternoon and wait.”
“Why not? They could have the elevator fixed at any time.”
“And if it isn’t? Are you going to a hotel?”
“Do you want to go to a hotel?”
“No. I don’t need to go to a hotel. I can walk up ten flights of stairs. You can’t. So what do you want to do?”
“I’ll wait and see. We can decide to go to a hotel later.”
I looked at the property manager’s office. I know they would close early. After all, it’s Christmas Eve.
“What stuff do you want to bring with you?”
“What?”
“To the hotel. What stuff do you need me to get from the apartment? Do you have your medication with you? You need your medication. Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if we’re going to a hotel then I need to go upstairs and get everything you’ll need. You’ll need to tell me where everything is.”
I’m still speaking loudly. People are probably thinking I’m yelling at my mother. They are right – to an extent. I tell myself it’s because she doesn’t have her hearing aids in. The truth is that I am angry that we are in this position.
Just then, the elevator door opened. Mom jumped up from her chair and marched towards it. She didn’t wait for me. So, again, I quickly followed. We rode in silence up to our floor and walked to our apartment. I unlocked the door. Mom walked in, tossed her coat on the couch and sat down at her desk.
I looked at Mom, “What were you thinking?”
“What?”
“What were you thinking by walking down all of those stairs? You just walked past me and kept going. I called after you and you didn’t stop. You didn’t think about your legs or your breathing or your heart. You didn’t think about how you were going to get back up here. You didn’t think about needing medication if you couldn’t get back up here. You didn’t think about clothes if you stayed at a hotel. You didn’t think about anything.”
Just then, the phone rang. It was my sister-in-law. I only heard Mom’s part of the conversation. “Oh the elevator stopped working but now it’s working again. No, we could have gone to a hotel. But we’re fine now……“ The conversation turned to plans for Christmas Dinner. I walked into my room and got changed.
Mom was off of the phone when I walked back into the living room. “Well, what were you thinking?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it does. You made these decisions without talking to me, without asking me what I wanted to do, and without even thinking about me.”
“We could have gone to a hotel. I asked.”
“Right. But who would have had to walk all the way up here to get your things and bring them down? Certainly not you. No. And when I asked you about going to a hotel you said you didn’t want to go. Now I hear that you did. So why didn’t you just say that earlier? No. You let me worry about you walking down all of those stairs. Then you let me worry about what we were going to do if the elevator wasn’t working. Why? If you had waited, we could have come back here, gathered clothes and your medication and brought them down with us when we left this morning. Then, if the elevator wasn’t working when we came back, we could have gone to a hotel.”
Mom stood up from her desk and told me to go to hell. She walked into her room and shut the door.
Diary of a DOW 