wowOwow - The Women on the Web

08/03/2009 12:00 am

Life

Excerpt From When the Time Comes by Paula Span

Adapted from Paula Span's book, When the Time Comes: Families with Aging Parents Share Their Struggles and Solutions, published by Grand Central Publishing. Click here to read a personal essay by Paula Span, on wowOwow, entitled "We Are Not the Boss of Them."

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On a spring Sunday, Shirley Grill was steering her black Volvo towards the George Washington Bridge and her mother’s house in the Bronx, plotting her strategy. Assuming everything went as planned, this would be a significant moment, a turning point.

As Shirley drove in from New Jersey, a young Polish woman was taking the subway from Queens, heading towards the same address off Pelham Parkway. If this candidate passed muster, if her references checked out, if she took the job, then months of cajoling, blustering, warning and imploring by Shirley and her sister would pay off. After nearly 30 years of living alone, Dora Appel, their 86-year-old mother, would finally have a live-in companion and caregiver.

Shirley was ticking off her employment requirements as we drove; I’d come along to watch this new phase unfold. "I want this woman to be able to have a basic conversation with me," she began. Home care workers in New York City are frequently recent immigrants, and frequently Eastern European. That posed no problem – Shirley’s mother had grown up in a small Polish town and spoke Polish, Russian and a little German, plus Yiddish and Hebrew.

But Shirley wanted the aide they hired to be able to communicate with her, too, which meant having a reasonable command of English. "I want her to be able to go to the pharmacy, which is within walking distance. And to be able to call for help and articulate what’s needed."

She also wanted "someone incredibly careful about safety, hovering when my mother’s walking, helping her," Shirley continued. "I don’t want her going up and down the stairs alone, it makes me crazy."

The precipitating event in this years-long campaign for additional help was that a month earlier, Mrs. Appel had walked literally around the corner to her cousin’s house and taken a very nasty fall. It sent her to the hospital for five days, and she’d yet to fully regain her strength. Now, Shirley didn’t want to take any chances.

Most important, she hoped this helper would have a good heart and an easygoing disposition. "Feisty," the word so often invoked to describe the spirited elderly, barely sufficed for Mrs. Appel. Unstoppably independent, she didn’t really need much hands-on care; she could bathe and dress herself, still did some cooking, handled her own medications and maintained her checkbook, read the New York Post daily and then shared it with her next-door neighbor.  Her live-in helper would mostly keep house while simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on her employer. In terms of duties, "it’s actually an easy job," Shirley thought.

But Mrs. Appel was particular about many things, from the way meat loaf was seasoned to the way the towels in the linen closet were folded; she also kept a kosher kitchen, necessitating separate sets of dishes, utensils, even sponges, according to the Jewish dietary laws. This helper had to therefore grasp and accept myriad do’s and don’ts –while maintaining affection towards the person issuing them. "My mother needs someone who will treasure her," Shirley said.

Shirley was 59, a droll, energetic redhead who kept her Blackberry and her cell phone clipped to her waistband.  A business consultant, a civic and religious leader in her town, she radiated extreme competence. "I want myself there," she recognized.

That wasn’t in the cards: Shirley and her husband lived 40 minutes away in Montclair, New Jersey. Now that their two children were grown, she traveled frequently for her work.