Chronic Illness Diagnosis

Have you ever had an experience of being in a car accident or have seen your friends or family members driving irresponsibly?

As a child, I remember begging to sit in the passenger seat. Despite constantly vying for that seat, I always lost, destined to sit in the back with my sister. “It’s because he’s the oldest,” my parents often reasoned as I sat dejected behind them. It didn’t really matter anyway at that age. Somewhere during the middle of the ride, I’d drift off and dream about the day. Dream about all the could have’s and would have’s while faintly being able to feel the turns of the car. Being in the front didn’t matter if I was going to sleep.

When my brother graduated from middle school, I could finally sit in the front. I didn’t have to duke it out with my sister. She didn’t care as much as I did. Or maybe she knew what was to come. The feelings of dread that the front seat brought with it. Because God I regretted fighting with my brother all those times. Every single argument. Every push. Every time I’d snitch on him for calling me a name. Everything. In a sense, by always winning the front seat, he was protecting me. Protecting me from the danger that is my dad’s driving. Admittedly at first, it wasn’t so bad. I’d sleep through most of the rides, dreaming once more about the day. Before I knew it we were home, so I never felt like I was in any immediate danger.

There finally came a time where I couldn’t sleep in the car. I finally knew what it meant to drive with my dad. I finally knew why my mom would yell at him in Yoruba. Complain about his driving abilities. Offer to drive even despite her being tired. Now, I finally knew that feeling. All the times my heart jolted or skipped a beat in my chest. The times where all my muscles would tense. The times where I’d curl my toes in fear. Where I’d grab onto the little handle on the side of the door, bracing for any sort of impact. Sometimes my life flashes before my eyes, and I regret all the chances and opportunities I never took. Despite all this, I’ve never been in any life-threatening accidents. Of course I had been in a few accidents because of my dad’s poor driving: t-boned on my way to school (safe to say I didn’t go to school that day), reversing into a car at a Dunkin (couldn’t explain how that one happened), rear-ended at a red light (surprisingly not his fault). All of that being said my dad, a poor excuse of a driver, has a chronic illness. I like to call it “texting while driving.”

It’s quite the common illness. Plaguing thousands of drivers over the world, this illness distracts the person from the road. My father happens to be the only one in my family with this chronic illness though. So, any incoming sensible driver stops for him while he’s speeding, oblivious to the fact that there are other vehicles occupying the road. Oblivious to the fact that there are other people in the car whose lives are on the line. Everyone, except my brother, despises driving with him. God, I laugh whenever I see my mom cling on for dear life but I’m equally as afraid. His black phone dictates his life in and out of the house. If I could just snatch from his hands while he drives, I would. A 20 minute drive without a phone won’t kill, but a glance down to the phone will. However, he doesn’t seem to understand that. Nothing bad has happened due to it yet, so he thinks he’s invincible. That’s the mentality that everyone with this chronic illness has. Yet, time and time again this same chronic illness has taken people’s lives. So, if he ever offers to drive me anywhere, I decline even if it’s for an important event. It seems I value my life more than he does, but it has also meant I’ve missed out on a lot of things. Relationships, parties, school/scholarship events. I’ve missed out on a lot of life because I’m scared of my dad’s driving. Because I’m scared that one day he’ll get behind the wheel, and he’ll never get that opportunity again. Scared that one day I’ll go with him when he’s behind the wheel, and I’ll lose the future I’ve so desperately been craving for. He isn’t scared though. And I’m afraid this chronic illness has gotten too far out of hand for him to care.