My Collaborator

Notes on growing old with an old person

Hello friends,

I write to you in the thick of a lot of caregiving for my dad. These last several years have been demanding, but the intensity ramped up in January, when I began to discern how his next phase of life might proceed.

My dad is 79 years old. Recently, he asked me his age and how he could know this. I began a long-winded explanation that left both of us confused—“you were born in 1946. 100 minus 46 is 64. We’re in the year 2025, so 64 plus 25 equals…” I know. Preposterous. Later, my brother said, “the answer to his question was: ‘I am the keeper of this knowledge. Please, ask me and I’ll tell you!’ ” It turns out that this is often the answer to his questions. This is a huge responsibility for me. I’m game; one could say I’ve been training for this level of engagement for a long time; but can one ever exercise their heart muscle enough for the rigors of caregiving for an aging loved one? I’ll tell you what: I feel myself aging hand in hand with him. It’s a wild way of growing into maturity.

Currently, we’re interviewing caregiver agencies. Fortunately, my dad qualifies for a Medicaid-funded in-home caregiver, but in order to bring one on, we have to choose between a host of approved agencies. We can interview them—and they us—but it’s the representative, or owner, who we’re speaking with, not the caregiver themselves. This feels like going on a blind date with someone’s hype man or woman. How could you ever know if it’s a match?

I can’t control how much Medicaid pays, so I know this caregiver will have a low wage ($17-$23 !!). I can choose a firm that provides benefits and paid time off, offers training, is locally owned, and hires people in our neighborhood so they won’t have to travel far to reach him. Outside of that, it’s hard to know how one goes about choosing an agency. (If you have wisdom, please share!)

My dad has been the most delightful part of the interview process. He’s asked to call this caregiver his “collaborator.” We’re currently on our third of five interviews. We conducted an interview with a very well dressed woman—in black leather pants, high-heel leather boots, a shin-length camel coat, a matching cashmere sweater, buffed almond-shaped red nails, flawless skin flawless hair, and oh right, she was also beautiful. She owns her own agency, which is fairly new and rapidly growing. She’s building the business by acting as the sales representative herself. She conducted an impressively professional interview with my dad, and I could see that he liked her. After she left, I asked what he’d thought.

“Well, she’s not going to have a hard time finding work, so we probably don’t need her,” he said.

“Are we looking for someone a little less polished?” I asked.

“I would think so!” he answered.

I am my father’s daughter!

There are so many twists and turns to this experience. I’m in the rapids of it so I know I’m not seeing the shape, course, or pace of this river accurately, which is probably for the best. My personal goals aren’t related to master navigation. They’re durability, flexibility, and keeping a soft loving heart.

I’ve taken so many photos of my dad with my new Kyocera camera. Of course I have—he has his own style and the beard of a guru!

Grocery Outlet is a good photo shoot set! Also, hi Saki and Hannah and Amy’s back.

Hooray for the old; hooray for the young!

The dual images continue to delight me! On top: This is a park where Celilo Falls used to be, where my dad and I would always stop for lunch while driving east on I-84. On bottom: We haven’t let up our regular Soen lunches. Can’t you see why? Delicious!

We’re gonna miss this week but… see you there on a Wednesday soon!

Love,
Lola