Driving Miss A

Remember Driving Miss Daisy? Well, forget about Daisy. This is about me. Me, the control freak who has had to surrender all control to J. Poor J. I drove him crazy yesterday.

After going to get J's diabetes supplies and medications yesterday, I tell him that, while E is in school and we were out and about, since I was having a good day, to take me to Babies 'R' Us. I want to get the remaining items on our list. So he does. I planned to waddle my way around the store, but they have these wheelchairs sitting there by the door--not scooters,but regular wheelchairs--and J insists I get in one. Bad idea. Very bad.

I sit in the chair, and he starts to push me around. It started out just fine. We needed bottles and they are at the front of the store. But I wasn't sure which ones I wanted, so I was going back and forth between the different brands, comparing them. Not a big deal, right? Wrong! Poor J had to keep inching me forward, then backward, forward and then backward, until I finally made my selection. He wouldn't say anything, but I kept hearing him sigh. So after getting all of the items needed from that section of the store, I tell him to go. Go where? I don't know. Just go, dammit. So he does, and he pushes me as slowly as possible, which drives me crazy. So we are going down this long aisle, and when I see something we need, I tell him to turn. Where? Just TURN!!!!! Here. Not that way, the other way.

And so it goes, through the entire store. But it gets a little worse with each item I add to the little shopping basket attached to the front of the wheelchair. The items are starting to pile up, but one of the things on my list is a Diaper Genie. Don't ask me how we got that thing in that little basket because I don't know how. But the only thing worse than being a control freak and having to rely on others to push you around in a wheelchair is doing so when you cannot see where you are going!

So here we are, with the enormous Diaper Genie, as well as mounds of baby stuff crammed into this little basket right in front of my face. Everything is teetering precariously, like the whole deal is about to come crashing down. J is talking to me, but other shoppers cannot see me behind all of the stuff, so he looks like some insane man, talking to himself as he is shopping. He's not paying too much attenton to what I am doing, as he is trying to drive me without maiming me or hitting a bump that would cause our pile of selections to end up on the floor around us.. We keep passing stuff that I see that I like, and I will grab them off of the shelf to look, but he doesn't realize I am looking, so he keeps going with the item still in my hand, and I keep having to tell him to back up. Back up? Where? Arrrrgh, THERE!

He keeps coming to random stops, and I keep telling him to Go! I can't see, nor does it even dawn on me, that there might be some poor grandmother in front of us trying to pick out a gift for a new grandchild. Normally, in those situations, I would sit quietly and wait until I could pass. But again, I can't see,and am barking at J to go, and finally he has to tell me, "Andrea! There is someone there!", as he smiles sweetly at the woman. And she just scowls at him like he is intentionally trying to rush her rather than trying to shut me up. We manage to piss off many people this way as we make our way through the store.

The worst part? The clothing section in the center of the store. It's a tight fit around the racks, and if my directions to J were bad before, they are really bad now. I don't really need any more baby clothes, other than a hat to match the cute take-home outfit I have bought for Zachary. I just want to look. Maybe there is something cute I cannot resist. Or maybe they have some killer sales and I can start adding outfits in the next sizes up. So J parks me in front of some rack so I can look. But I can't see. So he has to maneuver me at an angle where I can. But wait! What's on the other side of the round rack? What if I want something from there? Lemme See!!!! Finally, J gets exasperated enough that he starts making laps around all of the racks so I will just shut up. And for once he is mad at me for not buying something from that section because all of the efforts were wasted. (Well, I did get a couple more gowns, so not a total waste.)
Finally, he has had enough, and he simply tells me I am done. In that firm tone of voice that use with a disobedient toddler. As in Don't-even-ask, There-is-nothing-more-you-need-and-I-AM-ENDING-THIS-NOW!!!!!! We checkout and J pushes me to the car.

Once in the parking lot, things get a little tricky. I am stuck in the wheelchair and the basket is piled with plastic bags. The basket, incidentally, that has to swing upward to let me out. It's chilly outside and I am cold and shivering, so J is trying to hurry. He starts with the Diaper Genie, and as soon as he pulls it free from the basket and turns to put it in the car, the wheelchair, with me inside, starts to roll downhill. He doesn't even notice at first, as he is rearranging stuff in the back of the car to make room for our purchases. I try to free my arms enough to stop myself, and yell for him. He has to rush to catch me before I go rocketing to the end of the enormous parking lot. I'm sure it was quite the sight, as onlookers were staring.

Never. Again. Will. We. Do. THAT!

So this whole experience got me thinking. I think the worst part of bedrest,or at least of trying to minimize what I do to appease my doctors, is learning to relinquish control. I am used to doing everything for myself. I'm impatient with others and like things done a certain way. If it took J too long to get to the pile of laundry, I would simply do it myself, for example. I can't do that now without my uterus going into violent protest. I hate being at the mercy of others.