He stopped on the fourth step
Every year, on the first Saturday in December, my dad comes over to help us put up the tree. He's done it since my son was born. He brings the same dented box of ornaments from his house, and he puts the star on top. That's his job. Nobody else touches the star.
Our living room is up a short flight of stairs from the front door. Seven steps. I'd never counted them before last year.
Dad got to the fourth one and stopped. He had one hand on the rail and the other pressed flat on his knee, and he just stood there. My son yelled down, "Grandpa, come on, we're doing the star!" Dad said, "You go ahead, bud. I'll be right there."
He wasn't right there. He stood on that step for what felt like a full minute. Then he turned around, sat down on the bottom step, and told Maddie she could do the star this year, since she was big enough now.
Everybody acted like that was a sweet thing for a grandpa to say. I went into the kitchen and stood at the sink for a while.
He'd been sleeping in his recliner
My dad is 72. He walked a mail route in Knoxville for 31 years, rain or heat, and he'll tell you about every dog on that route before he'll admit anything hurts. When his knees bother him, he says they're "being stubborn." That's as close as he gets.
Once I started paying attention, though, I saw it everywhere. He'd stopped walking Biscuit around the block. He took the stairs at his own house one at a time, both hands on the rail. And my mom finally told me that some nights he didn't go up to bed at all. He'd fall asleep in his recliner with the heating pad on his knee and stay there till morning, because it was easier than the stairs.
That one got me. He's slept in the same bed for 46 years.
I was done buying him sweaters
Dad is impossible to shop for. Every Christmas he gets a sweater and a gift card to the hardware store, and every Christmas he says "you shouldn't have." This time I wanted to get him something for his knees. Something he'd use in his own chair, without driving anywhere.
So after the kids went to bed, I sat at the kitchen table and started looking. A lot of what I found was a sleeve, a cream, or a heating pad with a different name on it. He already had all three.
Then I found the LEVIDE Knee Companion 2.0. It's a wrap that goes around the knee and does three things at once: heat, vibration and red light. The company says the light is 850nm and reaches deeper into the tissue around the knee to help circulation. I won't pretend I understand the science, but I understood that it's cordless, it switches itself off after 10 minutes, and Dad could use it in his recliner during the news.
The comment that made up my mind
I read a lot of customer comments that night. One woman wrote that she'd bought one for her father-in-law, who'd had two meniscus surgeries. She said he "still deals with stiffness, but says this knee massager feels like a mini PT session."
Stiffness was Dad's whole morning. He got out of the car like it was a job.
Two more things settled it. The company says to ask your doctor first if you've had knee surgery or a knee replacement, or if you have metal implants or a pacemaker. Dad hasn't had any of that, but he sees his doctor every few months anyway, so I made him promise to mention it, and he did. And they give you 90 days from delivery to send it back, so if he hated it, I could return it.
Both his knees bother him, so I got the kit with two devices, one for each knee. I ordered it that night.
"What is this, a helmet?"
That's what he said on Christmas morning when he pulled the first one out of the box. In fairness, it does look a little like one. It's a white rounded shell that sits over the front of your knee, with a strap that goes around the back.
We do Christmas morning at my parents' house, like always. My husband, Dan, helped him strap both on right there in his armchair next to their tree, still in his pajamas. He picked a heat level (there are three) and a vibration setting, and he sat there with the kids crowding around asking what the red lights were for.
After ten minutes they switched off on their own. Dad looked down and said, "That's it?" Then he asked Dan when he could do it again.
Ten minutes every night, during Jeopardy
I figured they'd end up in the drawer with his knee sleeve by February. They didn't. The company suggests a 7 to 10 minute session every night before bed, and Dad took that as an order. He does it during Jeopardy. Mom says he gets annoyed if anybody talks during his session, which is also how he is about Jeopardy.
They charge with a USB-C cable, so he plugs both in next to his phone on Sunday nights. He likes the middle heat setting. He says the warmth feels deeper than his old heating pad and doesn't leave him feeling cooked.
For the first week he didn't say much about it, except that it felt nice. I didn't push.
The phone call I didn't expect
About three weeks in, he called me on a Tuesday morning, which he never does. I thought something was wrong.
"I went up to bed last night," he said. Just that. Then he changed the subject to the Vols.
He still takes the stairs one at a time. He still holds the rail. I want to be honest about that, because he isn't 50 again and nobody told him he would be. But he said his mornings were easier, and he was sleeping upstairs again, and that was all I'd wanted.
Then Mom sent me a photo
In February my mom texted me a picture out of nowhere. It was Dad from behind, walking Biscuit down the sidewalk in his puffy coat. The text said, "Look who's back."
He'd started taking her to the corner and back. Then around the block. He'd never have told me himself.
He wants the star back
He still uses them every night, almost a year later. It's part of his routine now, like his coffee and the crossword.
Last weekend Maddie asked him if he was coming over to do the tree with us again. He said, "I'm doing the star this year. You had your turn." She told him he'd have to make it up the stairs first. He said, "Watch me."
I'll let you know how it goes. I already know where I'll be standing with my phone.
If your mom or dad stops halfway up the stairs
Everybody's knees are different, and my dad still holds the rail. But if you have a parent who stops halfway up the stairs and calls it nothing, this is the gift I'd buy again.
LEVIDE is running its Black Friday sale right now. One device is $99.99, down from $199.99. The two-device kit I got Dad is $169.99, down from $299.99. If one device is enough, the Complete Kit adds their knee gel and a knee brace for $129.99, down from $229.99. Shipping is free in the US.
If it's a Christmas present, don't leave it to the last week like I almost did. They say orders ship within 2 business days and take 5 to 11 business days after that to arrive. You get 90 days from delivery to send it back in its original box if it isn't right for them, and return shipping is on you.
