Helpless in the Holler

I'd been putting off hiring a home aide because of the expense and the loss of privacy, which I value far more than money. But on a recent visit, my eminently sensible aunt kicked my ass gently and lovingly over those hurdles by: (a) offering to help with the cost and (b) pointing out that an aide would be almost as big a help to Dan as to me.

That was the easy part.

After more than a decade in Club ALS -- and a lifetime of aging friends and family -- I've heard enough caregiver horror stories to publish a fat, scary anthology of anguish. Yet, as I steeled myself for the inevitable, I was foolishly unaware that the headaches begin before you even hire someone. Now I know better.

So far we've had two strikes.

Candidate A came "highly recommended," though it's a little unclear who did the vouching, as her last patient had died more than a year before. Maybe it came by way of a Ouija board.

She was massively late to the interview, which should have been a red flag, but when she agreed to the duties and asked a reasonable wage, we decided to give her a try. Dan took the day off work to help show her the ropes, and things went decently -- with one graphic exception. Apparently her digestive system had some sort of major ... um, episode ... in the bathroom, the results of which she did not fully deal with, so poor Dan had to clean up after someone who was supposed to be cleaning up after me. (Another definition of irony -- one we could have done without.)

Believe it or not, that wasn't the most disturbing part of the day. As the woman prepared to leave, she suddenly announced that she wanted more money. Why? we asked. She'd set the rate herself the week before. We'd agreed without haggling and hadn't introduced any new duties since the interview. In fact, she'd spent much of the time working her cell phone and sitting on her ass. Despite her certainty that she was worth more, she was unable to express why. When Dan called her that evening to decline, she did an about-face and practically insisted on coming to work at the lower rate. It was all he could do to get off the phone politely.

Candidate B was a longtime caregiver for a friend of mine. When he died, a year and a half ago, I wasn't ready for an aide, but when I heard recently that she was available, I jumped. She came over for an interview, and we both found her warm and kind. Her greatest concern was that the commute would involve a highway, which she claimed was a surprise -- even though said thoroughfare was part of my directions. Never mind, she said, she'd give it a try and see how it went. So we crossed our fingers and Dan took another day off work.

Half an hour after her scheduled arrival this morning, I mused:
"Maybe I should check my email." Sure enough, she'd sent a very polite message at 10:27 last night, turning down the job because of her "absolute terror" of the highway and a conflict with her daughter's summer school schedule. I know fears can creep up on you late at night, but I wasn't aware that school administrators announced schedules after hours. Live and learn.

This is all inevitable, I suppose, when the situation involves crappy work at crappy pay. Maybe if I kiss enough frogs I'll get lucky and find someone with Candidate B's personality and experience but not her phobia (nor her daughter's late-breaking schedule). In the meantime I'm thinking of taking out an ad:

WANTED: Caregiver to bathe, dress & feed ugly lifesize dollbaby. Low pay, no benefits, flex. hrs. Must like dogs & be pleasant w/good hygiene. Male model type a +. No homophobes or proselytizers need apply.