cimorene

So my parents took the ill-advised roadtrip. They made it safely to New Mexico and are staying in a hotel, since my grandfather's house isn't sufficiently handicapped accessible for them (or there weren't enough guest rooms since Crunchy Aunt et al are there at the same time?). Now I get this in email from my mother:

The weather here is very difficult for David. He is almost sick daily form the heat, and there is nothing we can do that does not involve going out in it. It is scary.

Call me crazy, but is there not, in fact, something you can do when you're an invalid vulnerable to high temperatures in a hot, dry environment that makes you sick if you spend time in the sun? Yes? You can, in fact, stay inside in the damn air conditioning. I know it's sucky, but when you're severely crippled in all sorts of ways, and old and fragile, there is just less shit that you can do! Their refusal to accept reality in this respect is just childish, to my mind. "We're not going to let my injury prevent us from roadtripping (even though we don't have an entire adult who is competent to drive in the family)", "we're not going to let my injury prevent us from spending all day outside in the desert in summer (even though my brain is physically incapable of regulating my body temperature properly)", "we're not going to let my injury prevent us from air travel (even though my immune system is weak and I'm particularly vulnerable to lung infections)". What next? "We're not going to allow my injury to prevent me from going through this doorway (even though it's not as wide as my wheelchair)"? That's the kind of thinking that leads to wheelchair-shaped outlines where the doorway used to be!

I can feel a faint throbbing in the physical centre of my rage (the one in my chest. The one in my head is more for badfic). I think I'm going to lie down and fume.