Fellini, Table for 2

After making the comment about the parking structure at UCSF, this story popped into my head. that means, it is time for another trip down memory lane.

Maggie was little, maybe two, maybe not quite.  Though not positive of the date, I can confirm it was a terrible time for her medically. That was the case for the entire first three years of her life. The morning started at 8:00AM with a potential problem with the shunt in her head.  I cannot recall the symptoms now but I had to make a mad dash up to see the neurosurgeon. That is never good.

As I drove toward the massive parking structure at UCSF, I spotted a car leaving on the street. Impossible! (In the 17 years I have been going there with Maggie I think I have parked on the street about 5 times.) Even though there was a parking meter, we can park all day with the handicapped placard. This spot would save me at least 15 minutes. I snagged it.

I started down the long hall to Neurosurgery. (For those of you who know UCSF, it was in a different location then.) I passed Pediatric Surgery, a different department. Maggie’s surgeon Dr. deLorimier was standing in the hall. He asked what was happening and I told him. He looked grim faced and wished us well. (see earlier post on Dr deLorimier at Maggie World: Big Al)

We spent the day undergoing various tests, a ct scan, a nuclear medicine test, etc. Finally about 8 hours after arriving, they decided Maggie could go home and be monitored there. It was 4:45 PM. As I left, I saw Dr. DeLorimier way down the hall. He was heading up to the hospital to do his rounds. He raised his hands as if to say, “What happened?” I gave him a thumbs up and he clapped.

This is before Maggie had a wheelchair and I carried her everywhere, which was not easy. She was little and light; but she has never had head control, and it took two hands to keep her steady.    We loaded back into the car. Someone saw me leaving and immediately stopped to grab the coveted parking spot. I started the car, fastened my seatbelt, put on the blinker and pulled the emergency brake. 

The handle of the brake release came off in my hand.

For a moment, I thought I pulled the hood release by mistake.  That doubt was erased when I looked at the thing in my hand and it read “BRAKE RELEASE.”  I can still see those words as clear as day.  Sadly, the brake did not actually release when it pulled out and I could not move the car.  The driver awaiting my spot was honking. The traffic was backing up behind him. I showed him the brake release and hanging cable as if to offer some explanation.   

I unloaded Maggie and went back inside to find a phone booth. (You remember those…back in the days before cell phones.) Naturally, at 5:00PM there was a long wait for AAA just to pick up the phone, not to mention the wait time for a truck.   I balanced Maggie on the little area next to the payphone and waited for them to answer. I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I turned around and there was Dr. deLorimier again, returning to his office from his rounds upstairs. He said, “Are you ok.”  I silently handed him the brake release, which was still in my hand. He was very sympathetic.

He said, “Can I DRIVE you someplace?”  I smiled and said “no. I have to deal with this and I need the car. I’m sure it’s just some button to push, but I don’t know where it is." He looked at an obviously exhausted Maggie and a frazzled mom and said, “Are you sure?”  I nodded and gave him a grin. I said, “My life is a Fellini movie.”  He doubled over laughing. He knew I was right.

The tow truck came. I learned how to release the brake with my foot, which I did for about six months until we got around to fixing it. 

Maggie and I went home exhausted. The next day they had to do the surgery. 

Just park the car...

I live in a city that has more cars than places to put them. That means parking in San Francisco is often a competitive sport. People think we have it easier because we have a handicapped parking placard. That only works if Maggie is with me in the car and I never use it when she is not. One, it’s not right and two, the fines are CRAZY – like $750 or something. Out here in “the avenues” where I live, parking is not that bad, at least during the day. Nighttime is a different story, though. It is not unusual to circle for 20 minutes looking for parking.

We have two cars and we have a house that has a garage for one car and a driveway for the other. Theoretically. We cannot really use the garage to park a vehicle because we need to get the wheelchair through the garage to the elevator in the backyard. There isn’t room for both. Because of that, the garage has slowly filled up with stuff. It is ridiculous and out of control. I have to fight to keep a path wide enough for the chair to get through. It would not surprise me if Oprah showed up to expose this so that the viewing public could marvel at how strange this is and blame our behavior on the stress of having a disabled child. Actually, we just have too much junk.

Even without a spot in the garage, we still have the driveway, right? Well, not really. We leave the driveway open for the night nurse because it is impossible to find parking at 11:00PM. Now we cannot use it during the day much either. Recently, the City made our street a two-hour parking zone. Because we are residents, we have a permit that allows us to park on the street all day. The permit, a sticker on the bumper cost a lot, but far less than the inevitable parking tickets I would get. The school nurse brings her car here and rides the bus with Maggie. Her car is here all day every school day. Now I give her the driveway during the day so she won’t be ticketed every single day. That means I have free rein to use my driveway from 3PM until 11:00PM every day. However, I had better get the car parked on the street before 11:00PM or I can plan to spend 20 minutes searching.

On top of this constant dance, there is street cleaning. You cannot legally park your car on the side of the street being cleaned on certain days. On our side of the street, it’s the first and third Tuesdays from 8-10 AM. On the other side, it’s the first and third Thursdays. It used to be every week, which was actually easier to remember. Now I feel like I have to consult a sundial and a calendar to determine whether I have to move the car. In October, there were five Thursdays but only four Tuesdays. It is too much information to process. We have to pay $53 a pop when we forget, which is definitely several times a year. Inevitably, I hear the street cleaner coming and yell, “Where are the Cars?” but by that time, it’s too late. The parking ticket people come before the street cleaner. Perhaps today I will pay for the ticket we got two weeks ago.

The picture is of the parking signs on our street. There's my van with the obligatory sticker on the rear bumper and the nurses van sticking out of my driveway.

Today is the first Thursday and both cars were on the wrong side. I put Maggie on the bus and saw there was no parking available yet. I needed to wait for people to start leaving for work. I set the timer so I would not forget. At 7:50, I moved both cars to our side where they could sit until 12 days from now when they clean our side.

Unfortunately, we may have to use them between now and then.

Today's Gratitude: I'm thankful for my kitchen timer.