I stayed in bed for a few minutes. I was reluctant   to leave its warmth and comfort, and reluctant to face the problem that I'd let myself forget for the past six months. Finally, I dragged myself out of bed. I finished getting ready and tried to settle down. It didn't work, so I decided that my mum and I should go. We had a little time, so I thought we could practice parking. I failed, with the wheel hitting the pavement. After that, the little bit of confidence I'd had was gone. I tried two more times, but didn't improve much. Then we headed to the test site.  I went into a room for some paperwork. And I waited for 20 minutes--just enough time to make myself believe that I was going to fail. Then, finally, it was my turn. I just wanted to get it over and make sure that I had to come back next Thursday. I stepped outside and the sky was the light blue I love. It offered me some comfort and I realized something: sometime between when I pulled myself off the seat and when I got outside, I had become calmer. The first thing I had to do was parking, which I did quite well. The confidence that came with it hit me like a wave. The rest of the test went well and I passed it all. As I drove back, the instructor told me I would not be coming back for a second test next Thursday. Back in the building I didn't have to say a word. My mum knew just by looking at me. Her smile made her face softer. And I'm sure it was at least as big as mine. But, her eyes looked kind of teary, so, I knew she was happy for me. What has the author done probably in the past six months?
He has been ill in bed. He has been learning to drive. He has prepared to deal with failure. He has been looking after his mother.