The hard part is over, I thought. Our seats were around the corner. We were here to see local history in the making: Seattle, my beloved hometown, becoming an internationally recognized soccer city.
Then I turned the corner — and faced a wall of concrete stairs. I hadn’t realized how steep and narrow the climb would be. Our seats were near the top. How was my dad, with his cane, going to make it?
We’d been talking about the World Cup coming to Seattle since before his stroke. After it, I was even more determined to get him here.
My dad had a stroke 6 months ago
My dad had a stroke last December. Fortunately, he can still speak and walk, but he uses a cane now and can’t go very far. He’s lost some short-term memory, and his reaction time is slower.
He’s been working hard to recover with brain exercises and physical therapy. Still, the stroke compounded his existing mobility challenges, from a knee injury in high school and a physically taxing career as an electrician.
I’m hopeful that he’ll keep making progress. I’m also trying to accept that some changes may be the new normal.
What hasn’t changed, though, is our shared love of sports. Going to games is a celebration of our Pacific Northwest home. The stadiums are embedded in the city, offering skyline views and the best summer weather in the US. (I’m biased, of course.)
Luckily, my dad reached his seat, using the handrail to pull himself along with one hand and using the cane with the other. But it was a stark reminder of my inexperience with accessibility. I thought I’d planned our route well. I hadn’t accounted for that final climb.
My mom needed a break from caretaking
I spent hours in a digital line during the last-minute sales phase and, amazingly, scored four tickets on my credit card. My dream was to take my dad, mom, and boyfriend. But my mom had vacation plans: she’d been my dad’s caretaker for months, and was ready for a break now that he’d recovered some.
Without her, getting my dad to the game would be trickier. He hadn’t attended a big event since his stroke. My parents live a few hours north of the city, and he can’t drive unless he passes a new driving test — doctor’s orders. One of my mom’s friends thoughtfully volunteered to drive him part of the way. My boyfriend and I could pick him up from there.
But the stadium area would be closed to traffic, and accessible parking had sold out. I considered suggesting a wheelchair, but I know how much my dad values walking, even though it’s harder now. I figured we’d use other accessibility support to minimize his walking time.
The accessibility info I found online was confusing and seemed incomplete. So, while the US played Australia, I walked to Seattle Stadium from my nearby apartment. Weaving through revelers, I headed to the place listed as an accessibility drop-off area. I discovered an ADA shuttle parked there, and the operators told me that it actually started from my neighborhood. Finally, we had a travel plan.
In spite of the plan, match day still held surprises
Before 8 a.m., my boyfriend and I were on the road. The bright summer day promised temperatures in the mid-80s. We picked up my dad, then stopped to buy hydrating beverages, since he sometimes forgets to drink enough water. I started shivering in the cold grocery aisles, partly because of the refrigeration, but also because I was nervous about making sure my dad would be OK.
In Seattle, my boyfriend dropped us off at the shuttle pick-up point, then went to park and meet us at the stadium.
The walk from the drop-off to the accessible entrance was far for my dad, but at least it was flat, and he powered through. Even when we reached that final set of shockingly steep stairs, he didn’t complain. I could see that going up was painful for him. I tried to offer an arm for support, but he determinedly made it on his own.
We reached our seats half an hour before kick-off. Only then did I relax. Soon, the three of us were surrounded by the contagious joy of singing and chanting Bosnia fans as Bosnia and Herzegovina beat Qatar 3-1 in a thrilling match.
Even though navigating the stadium wasn’t as smooth as I’d hoped, it let me see how independent my dad still is. What my dad wants most is to enjoy our time together. It’s what I want, too.
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