Last week we were called in to Opa's home to fix a flat tire on his scooter, again! Last year we replaced one and it seems that it went flat again. So, we went and dad fixed it and Opa went off again. The next day, another flat on the other side but this time he was riding down the hall, with the flat, leaning as he went. It was so pathetic. Dad fixed it again and all is well.
When we moved him to a smaller one, we had to move all of his stuff minus a few furniture pieces all by ourselves. It was horrendous to say the least. Opa didn't understand what was happening so we left him to get settled and returned in the afternoon to see how he was faring. He asked us, "How do you like my new room?" He had no idea that we did that and now he asks us, "Did you know they moved me?" or "Did they tell you where my new room is?" he has no idea. Maybe that is good. I think he is okay with the move.
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