Mobility, or the lack thereof, dramatically affects lifestyle. After lurching and stumbling for two years, my father’s universe shrank to his daytime recliner and his nighttime bed, with his only outings being to the bathroom.  Mom’s mobility has deteriorated as well.  The steroid and gel shots in her knees did not help with stability and pain.  A cane became necessary.  I suggested to Mom that a walker would make her life so much easier, and safer, and she finally agreed, rolling it around the house.  She even balances her breakfast dishes (including a tall glass of milk) on the walker seat, from the kitchen to her recliner.  (No spills yet.)  I finally convinced her to try the walker at church.  I explained, gently, that I could not go back to having someone hang on me and cling to my clothing as they lumbered painfully along.  I did it with Dad, for a long time, and would not (could not) do it again.  She gave in, and I folded the walker and stowed it in the back seat.  Trading out the cane for the walker allowed her to move more quickly and safely, and more independently: she didn’t need my elbow or the loose fabric of my suit sleeve.  Today I told Mom I needed to go grocery shopping—she was welcome to come, but I could not wait for her to follow me through the aisles in the store.  To my surprise, she offered what I have suggested and she has rejected several times: using an electric shopping cart.  “I think that would be easier and better!”  So do I, I sighed in silent relief, surprised at her new willingness.  She got the hand of the throttle and steering, and set off happily through the store.  I even found myself following her once or twice.  Now that’s a change.