If anyone were to actually watch this event they would most likely cringe at the sight of three people stumbling, cursing, grabbing inappropriately, sweating and grunting as we try our best to transfer Mom into the front seat of Dad's van. It really is ridiculous, awful and hysterical all at the same time.
This is how it goes: The players-Marf, Scott, Dad and of course, Mom.
One of us usually wheels her to the passenger side of the car and lines her up at just the right angle so the chair is not parallel to the car nor is it perpendicular to the car-it's just at the correct angle (this will make more sense as I describe it- no it won't but I 'll tell you anyway). That goes extremely well. Unfortunately, it goes downhill from here.
Scott leans his butt against the front-seat-passenger-side-car-door and straddles the chair so that one leg is behind him and one leg is sort of in front of him so that when he hoists Mom into a quasi-standing position, Dad can quickly pull the chair out from behind Mom. This allows Scott to quickly move his back leg forward thus enabling him to not be off balance with the added weight of his victim...I mean Mom. Now, I am in the car, also in a quasi-standing position, but I am hunched over the seat with both hands outstretched ready to grab Mom's left leg and the back of her pants. This is the only time I am thankful that she has on a Depends because the bulk of the diaper prevents me from giving her a humongous wedgie. Okay, this is where it gets ugly. Usually, Scott, because he is off balance, can't really get Mom high enough into the seat so he is spasmodically trying to grab, hoist and prevent Mom from falling. Something about this sends me into hysterics, which is not good because once I start, my Mom starts and then Scott starts but he is holding most of the weight and then of course, he gets weaker from laughing and then Mom starts to slip and then he grabs her inappropriately....he grabs her BOOB. well, he's really holding her under her arm pits but his thumb is smashed against her one remaining breast ( we affectionately call it the uni-boob) Then I say," What are you doing?!!!! Stop grabbing her there!!" And he says," I can't lift my thumb or she'll fall!!!" Then because we are already laughing (Mom is laughing too so don't worry about her) and completely out of control, someone (Ok, it's Mom) farts. Why, oh why does this disgusting and embarrassing bodily function send any of us into childlike hysteria? (this immediately dashes all possibilities of me being an EMT because while my poor patient is clinging to life and I am administering some sort of medicine with a large needle, someone will inadvertently fart and I will begin laughing hysterically and uncontrollably while holding a dangerous weapon only to discover that I have now impaled my victim in the eye with the needle instead of the arm and now we have to go to the Will's Eye Institute!) I realize then, that something is really, really wrong with my family! Okay, I'm going to pause for a moment and tell you what Dad is doing during all of this. After swiftly removing the wheel chair from Scott and Mom, Dad goes to the back of the car and lifts the hatch. I yell to him that I'll do that but being the stubborn Barnett that he is, he folds the chair and lifts it the 3 feet off the ground to throw it in the back. Every time, he lets out a groan and a cry of pain because he has a bad back. After he does this, he walks to the front of the car to examine the condition of the duct tape that is ALL OVER the front bumper. In fact, it is holding the front bumper in place! To my Dad, duct tape is a wonderful invention. He uses it A LOT. Now, back to the idiots holding Mom: I am now sweating profusely because the combination of worry, hysteria and precariousness always makes me do so and to make matters worse, Scott's thumb is still smashed against MY MOTHER'S BOOB! After, tugging, pulling and shifting, Mom is finally on the seat sitting properly. Scott backs up, pants and wipes his brow and I come around to the front and tuck and buckle Mom in. I usually collapse my head on her lap ever so dramatically and tell her I am so sorry that my husband had to cop-a-feel of her breast. We laugh and she tells me that my hair is gray and I tell her hers is too. I kiss her and she thanks me (she's always so polite and sincere) and I shut the door. Dad usually says he needs to change some of the duct tape and thanks me too and backs the car up. Scott and I stand on the driveway and wave to them as they drive off. This entire process takes under one minute. We are amazed at how much duct tape is on the van.
By the way, did you know they make special vans that are equipped for handicapped people? All of the above could have been done with a simple push of a button. Why would anyone want to make their life easier? Besides, this was more entertaining!