Travels with someone ELSE'S Mom

"How would you like to come visit us in Texas?, asked my Camino walking partner, and old childhood friend.  "I would love to!" was my reply and from that initial question and answer, evolved a wonderful trip there, accompanying her mother Mrs. B.  Mrs. B celebrated her 85th birthday in her daughter's new home, surrounded by all her immediate family and grandchildren.  My ticket was generously paid for.  We made memories, and old, dear friends were able to help each other out.  MAGNIFIQUE, n'est-ce pas?

Now traveling with an eighty-four year old, (eighty-five year old on the return!) who required a wheelchair, was a TOTALLY different ballgame from traveling on my own.  I am used to zipping around airports at my fast clip, as anyone who knows me can tell you.  

I admit I had a few qualms about traveling almost 5000 miles round trip, what with making tight connections, going through customs and border security, with two carry-ons, two purses, and a lovely, white haired lady in a wheelchair.

The outbound was not without its adventures.  We arose at 3:00 am to make our 5:40 flight out. It was delayed due to de-icing AND having to turn the propellers on to heat up the plane, because the heating wasn't working properly. It was only MINUS 22 outside. It was still freezing cold inside, when we boarded that puddle jumper to Montreal.

We had a relaxing breakfast in the Maple Leaf lounge, meeting up unexpectedly with my baby Bro, who was passing through on his way back from Toronto. So far so good.  NOT!  Our flight to Toronto was cancelled, and we were rebooked.  It was LATE leaving.  WHY AC, in its infinite wisdom, would rebook a passenger requiring a wheelchair, in the SECOND LAST ROW of the next flight to Toronto, is beyond my comprehension.  Poor Mrs. B made her way down to the end, but it was tedious for her. 

We now had our three hour layover cut down to less than an hour.  With a wheelchair attendant, we made it to the customs area quickly enough.  From there, I didn't hang around waiting for another AC attendant on the other side.  I just grabbed whatever help I could,  both at customs AND border security.  Fortunately we were NOT hassled unnecessarily.  MAYBE because they KNEW that two grey haired ladies, ONE of whom was in a wheelchair, couldn't POSSIBLY be intending any harm?

With less than ten minutes to make it to our gate, I grabbed a carry-on on each shoulder, and threw my purse "en bandoulière".  Advising Mrs. B. to HANG ON TIGHT, I ran to the gate.  It was another AMAZING RACE DASH, albeit my first pushing a wheelchair. We made it, one minute past departure time. GOOD JOB the flight was fifteen minutes late!!! 

We made it to Texas thirteen hours after departure.  Mrs.B, exhausted as she was, had really been a trooper!  When she asked me too many questions, because of course, she was anxious, I would grab her hand and say, "Faites-moi confiance Mme.B." (Trust me Mrs. B.) 

Our return flights had their glitches too, but we made it WITHOUT getting stuck in Montreal, which was truly a blessing.

I had a few chuckles along the way:  Mrs. B insisted on walking up to the washrooms from the waiting area, without me, nor her wheelchair.  I kept an eye out, and when I realized she was entering the MEN'S washroom, I took off running.  It was too late! When I got there, she was coming out.  In French she tells me, "Je SAVAIS que je n'étais pas à la bonne place, quand j'ai vu un homme planté là!"  TRANSLATION (much better than Google Translate, I must add!)  "I knew I was in the wrong place, when I saw a  MAN standing there in front of me!"  It is really easy to mistake men and women's washrooms, when they have the same entrance, and stupid, almost identical looking ICONS!  Haven't we ALL done that?

On our tiny plane home from Montreal, the washroom was also really, really tiny.  A huge man went in, barely squeezing himself in.  When he came out, Mrs. B leaned over and said to me, "Ce n'est pas moi qui est à veille d'y aller APRÈS lui!" TRANSLATION: " I am NOT going to be the one to go in there after him!" Then I really had to chuckle out loud. By then, we had been traveling twelve hours, and a moment of levity was in order. 

This journey, like no other, has made me humble.  Yes, h-u-m-b-l-e!! It makes you humble to travel almost eight thousand kilometres with someone who needs a wheelchair and needs guidance. We shall ALL, ONE DAY, be elderly, God willing.  We TOO will need help and attention, and we TOO, will find it very hard to give up our independence. 

I strive to remember that, as I go about my daily business, seemingly always in a rush to get from here to there, to do this, or that.  This trip has taught me to appreciate the mobility and independence that I have, but to also pay much greater attention to those around us who do NOT!  I have resolved to take time to reach out and help, to talk and engage more, with our elderly in our community. They who have given SO MUCH in their lifetime, well deserve to be on the RECEIVING end now.