The Promise I Kept

by Jackie Madden Haugh

  I went back to work and arrived home at 3:00 p.m. prepared to have a little come-to-Jesus meeting with her.

  “Enemi, this isn’t working,” I said with deep concern in my voice. “I know you’re tired. It’s nice to know hospice is in the wings, but we still have to do the work. You’ve got caregiver fatigue, and, believe me, I understand because I feel it too. The only difference is that you’re getting paid, and I’m not. “

  Gazing expressionlessly at me with her chocolate-colored eyes, I wondered if we were truly connecting. With no response, I continued. “I’ve lessened your work hours, plus I give you time off during the day to run errands or to take a walk. We need to figure out how to make this better for all of us.”

  Suddenly, a look of horror crossed her face.

  “Am I losing my job?”

  “No, but this is how it needs to be going forward,” I informed in my most boss-like manner. “I’ll do everything from now on. I’ll even have his breakfast ready for you when you come so you won’t have to deal with that too. All you have to do is be sure he’s clean and dry, feed him his breakfast, and come when he calls you.”

  Faintly smiling, relief washed over her face.

  “Okay, Jackie. I understand.”

  “We have to work together as a team,” I repeated. “This is a big job, a tiring and boring job. But he deserves to have the best care we can give him.”

  Standing to give me a hug, Enemi squeezed me with her massive arms.

  “Thank you, Jackie. I’ll do my best.”

  And for the next couple of weeks, she did. She arrived on time, the laundry was washed and folded the very same day, and Dad’s every need was attended to. But by week three, things went back to the way they were before.

  Looking at my watch, I tapped my toe with anger. It was 9:45 a.m. and I was late for an appointment.

  “Where is she?” I ranted to myself, looking out the window. “I told her I had a meeting this morning. I’m already late.”

  Twenty more minutes ticked away as fury raged through my body.

  “Jackie!” my father yelled.

  “Dad, I’m right here,” I called, running into the room. Dad clearly wanted to be cleaned and have breakfast, but I couldn’t move him.

  “I want to get up.”

  “I know, but she’s not here yet.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. She’s late and not answering her phone.”

  Harrumphing, he blew an exasperated sigh, and then hissed, “She takes such advantage. She always did.”

  Seeing his frustration, I remembered all the times she’d missed the mark when he was living in his own home: cooking for her village, the laundry that never ended, and the endless parade of cousins.

  “Dad, I know you like her because she’s cheap, but maybe it’s time to hire someone we can truly trust.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No, no, no. Just let it be.”

  “But this is now affecting me. I’m late for my appointment.”

  Looking up, his face went soft as the reality became clearer.

  “Just leave me here and go.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Just then, the front door swung open.

  Running to meet her, my eyes shot bullets onto her contrite face.

  “I’m so sorry. Traffic was horrible.”

  “Traffic is never so bad that it takes an hour to get here from your house. Did you leave late?”

  Seeing she was busted, she admitted she had overslept.

  Christ, how much sleep does one person need?

  “I’m late for a meeting,” I informed her as I grabbed my bag and ran for the door. “Dad is ready to get up.”

  This is notworking, I thought to myself. But then I remembered how sweet she could be. She was a woman who loved everyone and always did try her best. Still, I needed to figure out a plan B. She was tired and becoming increasingly unreliable.

  Arriving at the office for the meeting I’d now missed, I picked up the morning newspaper. As if the angels of caregiving heaven were guiding my angry hands, I turned straight to the full-page ad of Home Care Assistance.

  Available 24/7. High caliber caregivers. No long-term contracts. Peace of mind.

  The last item, “peace of mind,” was like a relaxing melody from one of my meditation CDs: calm, sweet, and soothing. But it was the “no long-term contract” that also caught my eye.

  Picking up the phone, I made the call to Home Care Assistance and was greeted by a lovely sounding woman who introduced herself as Lisa Mitzel.

  “How can I help you?” she inquired.

  With a sigh, I began our tale of caregiving woe and explained how Enemi needed a break.

  Ten minutes later, I had the scoop. The minimum was four hours a day. While the rates were higher than what we paid Enemi, they’d come whenever we needed, even during the night.

  Signing off, I thanked Lisa but informed her I was just gathering information for now. Little did I know I’d be calling her sooner than I thought.

  The following day, I decided I needed a break. “Enemi, I’m going to Tahoe tomorrow,” I announced. “My brother David will come down to spend a few nights with Dad while I’m gone. He doesn’t know how to change his diapers, so you need to be here on time to help him.”

  Searching for a light behind her tired eyes, I asked, “Okay?”

  “Yes, Jackie. I’ll be sure Dave is taken care of.”

  “No, it’s Dad that needs the help. Dave just needs to be shown how.”

  Leaving at midday for a four-day reprieve, the three-and-a-half-hour drive began peacefully enough, but halfway there, I found myself in a waterfall of tears.

  I thought when we got hospice everything would be easier.

  After arriving at the cabin, I lay down on the couch once

  I finished unpacking at 5:00 p.m., wrapped myself in a thick, fluffy blanket and closed my eyes. I awoke seventeen hours later when the phone jarred me awake.

  “Jackie, what time does Enemi come?” Dave asked, confused.

  Looking at the clock, it was now almost 10:00 a.m. Dad would need canoe paddles to work his way out of his soggy diaper at this point.

  “What do you mean, what time is she supposed to be there?” I mumbled, still half asleep. “She should have been there an hour ago.”

  “Well, she hasn’t shown up and she’s not answering her phone.”

  Again?

  Telling him about my new find in the newspaper, I said, “I’ll call Home Care Assistance and see if someone can come out until we can figure this out. I’ll keep trying her.”

  After no luck reaching Enemi, I made the call and heard Lisa’s sweet voice again.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Our caregiver never showed up and my brother’s stranded. Is it possible to get someone out there today?”

  Pausing for a moment, she shuffled through her papers, then responded with a resounding, “Yes! We have a new hire. We’ll get right over.”

  We’ve all heard that God works in mysterious ways. But He also creates miracles. As it turned out, Enemi had been in the hospital all night. She had kicked a metal gate and had to get several stitches on the bottom of her foot. Her cell phone had gone dead, and she didn’t have our phone numbers written down in her wallet or purse.

  To save the day, the Almighty Lord (and Lisa) sent Emori Suevdre (also known as Junior), a six-foot, 300 pound Samoan who sweetly resembled the character Shrek, on the wings of Archangel Michael. Not only would he become the light our family needed, but also the caregiver Dad deserved.

  “Jackie, I can’t tell you the difference in not only Dad’s care today, but his attitude,” Dave sang later. “I think we should try to keep him.”

  “He’s that good, huh?”

  “Really, he’s amazing.”

  I looked out the window at the forest of pine trees across the way, I began to whimper—how I wanted to stay for the four days I had planned, but knew I better get ho
me.

  “Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll talk to Dad. Thanks for giving me this little break. It was nice to get away.”

  The following day, I arrived to find my father doing all kinds of exercises as Junior called out the moves like a drill sergeant conducting boot camp.

  “Okay, Jack! Again, lift that arm higher. Don’t let the weight drop,” he barked. Next, pointing to a space in mid-air for my father to kick his leg, he commanded, “See if you can hit my hand.”

  In the corner, David stood giggling. Sneaking up behind him, I whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

  Turning with a grin as big as any I’d seen on Christmas morning, my brother laughed. “He’s helping Dad to walk. And you know what? I think he’s going to do it.”

  Looking at our father dripping with sweat, we were both amazed to see a glowing smile on his face. His dream of walking again might just become a reality.

  “Hi, Dad,” I cried out when he took a break. “I’m home.”

  Blowing out a puff of hot air, he announced with joy, “I’m going to walk again!”

  Hugging his neck, I kissed his cheek and agreed. “I think you are.”

  Then, walking up to Junior, I shook his hand and gave him a hug around his expansive frame.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you!”

  “You must be Jackie,” he said, hugging me back. “Your dad is one tough soldier. I’ve been working him hard these last couple of days.”

  Looking at the clock, I noticed it was past Junior’s dismissal time. He was only hired for six hours with no overtime allowed.

  “Oh Junior, you need to go. I don’t want you in trouble for staying longer than commissioned.”

  “No worries. I clocked out an hour ago. I couldn’t leave him. We were having so much fun.”

  Knowing this was divine intervention, I asked if he was available for a few more days. Happily, he had no other plans.

  Later that night, it was time to have the talk with Dad as I finished preparing him for bed.

  “So, what do you think about Junior?” I began, fluffing the pillows under his head.

  “Oh, he’s great. You know it’s nice to have a man to talk to.”

  “I bet! How would you like to keep him?”

  Pausing for a moment, a look of concern veiled his face. “What would happen to Enemi?”

  “Well, I’ll have to let her go. It makes me sad, but she’s hurt herself, and I think she needs to rest. I’ll let her keep all the money we paid for this month. She’s only worked a week so far. The rest can be severance pay.”

  “How much is Junior?” Dad asked, a nervous infliction lacing his voice.

  “A lot more, but you deserve the best.”

  Shaking his head, he let out a growl much like a wolf about to attack its prey. “No, I don’t want to pay for it.”

  Frustration now pulling at the roots of my highlighted hair, I stopped for a moment to find just the right words.

  “Dad, what are you saving all that money for?”

  A pause suffocated the room.

  “Dad?”

  Looking away, he motioned me to leave.

  “No, Dad! Why don’t you want to pay for the care you deserve?”

  “Because I want you kids to have it,” I heard from his pillow.

  Cupping his face in my hands, I turned his eyes in my direction.

  “I don’t want it! And the boys don’t either. We want you to have a life that’s comfortable and safe. Sometimes you have to pay for the best.” Seeing a glimmer of understanding in his Irish eyes, I asked, “Wasn’t your time better with Junior?”

  Nodding, he added, “He even cooked dinner for us the two nights you were gone. And it was from scratch with healthy stuff.”

  “Really? Better than my cooking?” I smirked, knowing the answer had to be yes. “Well then, that seals the deal. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Kissing him goodnight, I held him a little longer than usual. Maybe this was how I’d be able to do right by him. Maybe this would bring him some joy before his time on Earth was done.

  The following morning, I called Lisa to set up a contract. Next, I called Enemi to give her the bad news. While it broke my heart, for she had become a part of the family, I knew that it would be best not only for my father, but her too. She just couldn’t go on any longer.

  For the next few months, Junior arrived not only on time, but early, and clocked out when required, but always stayed longer to be sure Dad was safely tucked away. The linens were washed, folded, and put away. My house was dusted and vacuumed. And every night I arrived home to a delicious meal waiting.

  But the best part of our new arrangement was that Dad was diligently working on walking again. Jenny also came as usual, but more for moral support as Junior grabbed Dad out of his chair into a standing position. And, to everyone’s astonishment, slowly his limbs began to move again.

  “Jackie, when are you coming home today?” Junior asked one Wednesday morning as I was preparing for another day of uncertainty in real estate land. “Your dad has something to show you.”

  “What?”

  “Can you come home for lunch? It’s a surprise.”

  Loving surprises, especially when they involved my father, I rushed back at noon. Somehow, Lauren got the memo too, and together we witnessed Jack Madden walk again. Like a toddler making his first steps towards his parents, the room burst in excitement.

  “Wow, Grandpa!” Lauren shrieked as she videotaped him take step after step toward the front door. “That’s amazing.”

  With about five steps left to his target, Dad had to sit down. Tears of joy exploded down everyone’s cheeks. I’d never seen him so proud.

  Running to give him a hug, I cheered, “Dad, that was amazing!”

  “I bet you thought I’d never be able to do it.” He grinned. “Next time, I’ll make it all the way.”

  Bending low so our eyes locked, I said with all certainty, “If there was ever anyone who could do this, it is you. I’m so happy for you.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The Final Transition

  “Jackie, the election is coming soon. I’m not registered to vote.” We were nearing the end of September. With the 2012 presidential election a month away, his right to vote became a burning point on his checklist of things to do.

  “What are you talking about? Of course you are.”

  “No! When you moved me here I became a resident of a different county. You can only vote in the county in which you live. I need to get an absentee ballot,” he grumbled. “I’ve never missed an election in seventy-eight years. I’m not missing this one.”

  I knew he expected me to take care of this immediately, and my shoulders slumped. I had a list a mile long of things to do that day, but now they’d have to wait.

  I had no idea how to get an absentee ballot and where to get the form, so I Googled it.

  Opening a page with instructions on how to download the form, my fear of spending the day running around was immediately calmed.

  “It takes two minutes to get your absentee ballot,” I read. “Get started now.”

  Rushing back to let him know all was good, I found him sound asleep, most likely from exhaustion over the worry of it all. It seemed that almost any amount of worry could cause fatigue to haunt his days. Just two weeks before, he was a proud man as he almost walked to the door. Now, just the mention of standing brought heaviness to his eyes.

  “He seems even more tired than usual,” I mentioned to Junior as he chopped the onions for Dad’s stew. “We never talk anymore at night. Once he’s in bed, he’s out.”

  “Well, Jack is nearing ninety-seven. That’s to be expected.”

  Taking a carrot that was about to be added to the pot, I began to chew on it, thinking of all the changes I’d witnessed lately.

  “I’m just concerned. He seems to be worried about all kinds of things. Today he was in a state over getting an absentee ballot, yesterday he wanted to start or
ganizing his taxes. For some reason, he feels there’s not enough time.”

  “Not enough time? They’re not due until April.” Junior giggled. “But he’s always been a man who wanted order in his life and things done in a timely manner. I would imagine voting is no different.”

  Even though I knew that, I still found it all a bit confusing. It would be several months before I even received any of the documents I needed to get his taxes ready.

  “Do you think he’s coming down with something?” I asked. “Maybe he’s got a bug. You don’t think he’s developing dementia?”

  Junior continued to stir the pan.

  “The nurse was here yesterday and she said he’s as healthy as an ox. So maybe he just has a lot on his mind.”

  For the next few days, things went the way they always did. His routine never faltered. It had been sixteen months since he moved in. I know if it had been me, I’d want to shake things up a bit, like maybe eat breakfast in bed before getting bathed, or watch a racy movie instead of saying prayers at the exact time every night. But my father liked his order, his routine, and knowing what was to happen at any given moment. As with Irish tradition of long ago, deviation was not allowed. But the one thing that did change was his conversation.

  “I need to give Bill a call,” Dad informed Junior the following Saturday morning. I was teaching my aerobics class at the YMCA, and Junior was getting him ready for the day.

  “Who’s Bill?” Junior asked, never hearing the name before.

  “My brother. I have to call him. It’s very important.”

  Knowing my dad was the last soldier standing in the Madden family, Junior became perplexed.

  “Jack, is Bill older or younger than you?”

  “He’s my older brother.”

  Doing the math wasn’t complicated. My father was ninety-six and the baby of three children. That would have made my uncle over one hundred.

  “Jack, didn’t your brother pass on?”

  For a moment, my father’s face went blank. Then, as if he realized he said something stupid, he shook his head and said, “Never mind.”

  Junior relayed the story to me when I arrived home an hour later.

  “Why is he saying all this weird stuff lately?” I wondered aloud.