I was dreading the day when my father could no longer drive. He was so dogmatic that he was still capable of driving and I feared the confrontation. (You really had to know my father!) So I took the easy way out — I avoided the issue.

I knew dad had had a few fender-benders but he always drove so slowly and only in his immediate neighbourhood; what could really happen?

I found out one evening when I returned home from work. The police had called; they were with my father at his home, waiting for me to arrive. My father had hit a child. The injury was not life-threatening but the whole episode terrified me.

I still did not want to confront my father because I knew that underneath the bravado were tremendous rage and fear about his failing capacities. Fortunately our family doctor bailed me out. He sat us down and simply told my father it was time to give up his license. He asked dad for the license and handed it to me. End of story.

I took my father to meet with a lawyer in case dad was sued. He was not and we never spoke of the accident or dad's driving again. But I know that had the doctor not stepped forward, my father would not have listened to me. I was only "a daughter". What did I know?

I'll tell you what I knew — it was one more incident that ultimately added to my caregiver burden and drove me a few inches closer to depression.

Looking back, would I have done anything differently? I hope so. I hope I would have stood up to my father when I noticed the first signs of trouble. I know — hindsight is 20/20 vision.