The Taxi Driver

I have never realized how much work goes into taking a special needs patient to the doctor or anywhere in general. In the hospital patients have parents they go home with after they are discharged. Yes, you do help the patient out while they are an inpatient but the real work is done by the parent or the primary caregiver. Going to the doctor with "B" is an all day affair. Feedings, treatments, dressing changes; everything has to be rescheduled in some way just to fit in a doctor's appointment, not to mention the extra bags you have to carry with you filled of supplies. The part I dread the most is the Taxi Van. I obviously cannot drive my patient to the doctor due to massive liability reasons and an overall lack of standard of care so I schedule a taxi that is wheelchair accessible to pick us up.

When I first started taking "B" to doctor appointments, it use to always put me in a not so pleasant mood. The taxi driver picks us up an hour prior to the appointment and more than likely we have to wait around for the driver to pick us up from the appointment. The driver does not wait on you because he has other patients to pick up and drop off at other destinations. We have literally waited for a ride to take us home for almost two hours. There is only so much I can do waiting for two hours especially if you knew "B". One day when we were finally getting picked up the door handle fell off and we were unable to wheel "B" into the van because the back door would not open. We had to take apart the wheelchair to get it into the van. Keep in mind "B" has the "Cadillac" of all wheelchairs and it is beyond heavy. Right before the handle fell off the door, a homeless man came right up to us and spoke directly at us in a language I believe only he understood. Thank goodness "B" had headphones on. I have come to the conclusion that it is inevitable there will be some obstacle we will have to overcome on days we go to the doctor. I cannot count how many appointments have been rescheduled because the taxi driver was unable to find "B's" home.

Thankfully, we have had the same taxi driver consistently for the past month, so appointments have been going smoother. Our driver has a pretty thick African accent and because I am curious when I meet people with accents other than my "Texan" one I asked him lots of questions. The first time he was our driver I asked him questions about being a cab driver for those needing transportation to and from doctors appointments, what his hours were, etc. In the van he played Christian music the entire time to our destination. I could not help but wonder what his religious beliefs were. It was very clear he has not lived in America for very long because his translations to English still need some work and even though Christianity is spread through parts of Africa there are still areas with different religions. The past two weeks I decided to find out what exactly his religious belief was.

Last week, I asked him where he was from. He grew up in Kenya and has lived in the U.S. less than 5 years. I asked him if he had family living here with him and he said, "No." He does have a wife who remains in Kenya and has friends here (they always call when I am in the car and he starts speaking his home language with them), no kids, speaks four languages, worked for a local trucking company before becoming a cab driver. We listened to country music that day in the van. I asked if he was a fan of country music and he told me he would rather listen to his "home" music but I wouldn't understand it. I told him I did not mind. On the way home that day, he played "his" music. He was right, I had no idea what the songs meant or the story that was being told, but it was very pretty music. I noticed books in the front seat but we were almost back home and I did not have enough time to ask anything else.

And then there was this week. After we got on the highway, I began my "20 Questions Game" and asked what the books were for. It turns out the man who drives us to the doctor not only has his bachelor’s degree but is finishing up his graduate degree at night. He studies in between patient pick up and drop-offs as well as all weekend. So of course my next question was, “What do you plan to do with your life when you graduate." His response was,

"To work with Americans and go back to Africa into tribes to tell people about God."

My taxi driver is no ordinary taxi driver.

I am guilty more times than I would rather say of judging others based on first impressions, when I have no right to judge anyone or anything.

and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.

He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,

or decide by what he hears with his ears;

Isiah 11:3 (NIV)

My taxi driver was more than a good reminder of that. Although I am so ashamed to write this but I know this is a good lesson for me to remind myself of, my first intial thought the first time I saw our taxi driver when wheeling "B" out to the van was, “I am about to be driven around by a Muslim." Completely close minded, sad, but very true.

Every person has a story to tell if you open your eyes a little wider and listen carefully.