Nonstop

Sprinting around America for the first time in many years reminds me of returning from college over my first Christmas break. So many friends! So few responsibilities! So much hanging out! Not really doing anything, but getting so much done!

In this case I returned to college, for my 25^th reunion. (Note how young we all look.)

Then I spent a week catching up with more than 35 family members as they whirlwinded through our favorite haunt in Michigan.

Quality and quantity time!

Now I’m in Seattle, working the phone. A nice bonus of passing through on short notice is that people make room in their schedules. If I still lived here, and I were to call about getting together, most likely I’d hear, “Sure, a couple months from now we’ve got a free evening.” But when I say, “I’m here till Sunday,” then suddenly the calendar opens up.

One Down

Yesterday a caregiver quit. She’d been on the job just over a week.

Jip’s brother Chao assured me on the phone that the remaining two are confident they can manage without replacing her. Jip likewise says she would rather not look for a new person until I get back.

I was surprised we lost her. This woman was the one who called in sick on her second day (she explained when she returned that she hadn’t wanted Jip to catch her cold). I had also ridden the bus with her once, after she’d worked the night shift. Her agency was located close to my office.

On the bus she and I had talked about food (the Thai equivalent of discussing the weather). We’d gotten to know a little more about each others’ families. She had even convinced me to drop by the agency and meet some of her fellow caregivers.

I thought, “We’re bonding. This is fun. She likes Jip. This is a keeper.”

Shows what I know.

First Impression

Getting on a plane for the U.S. seemed an unlikely prospect a few days ago. But suddenly there I was on the runway in Bangkok, listening to the cabin crew’s spiel. It hit me that I hadn’t told my friend Sarah that I had a long layover in San Francisco. Maybe she’d be spontaneous enough to drive out to the airport there after work for a chat! How could I get word to her?

No problem—my fancy phone knows how to send email. I zipped off a message, my seatmate covering for me as the no-electronic-devices police came down the aisle. Next I had to figure out if she got the message.

The phone didn’t work anymore in San Francisco. I saw a guy using a laptop and asked him about wi-fi access for my own computer. He said that if all I wanted to do was check my email, it would be simpler to just use his machine.

After he saw me write down Sarah’s cell number (she’d gotten my message, and was looking around for me), he offered the use of his phone, too. By then the guy and I were technology buddies. As we sat there, waiting for Sarah to walk over to that part of the airport, he held up his phone and said, “you want to watch some TV?”

“On your phone?” I said.

“I got 500 channels.”

Up till then I’d been pretty proud of the neat 21^st century trick I’d just pulled off—imagine arranging a same-day meetup, from halfway around the planet, without speaking a word! But now this guy’s gadget was kicking my gadget’s butt.

We watched the Dodgers game, live from L.A. They were playing the Mets. The screen was pretty small, so he plugged the phone into the laptop and voila! Now we could pick out the players’ names on their uniforms and everything. He noticed that I kept looking up, checking for Sarah.

“You know, sometimes I get distracted too, when I’m watching,” he said. “So I just record the show and play it back later.” On the phone. Whoa. Welcome back to the States.

Status Report

This evening, things have calmed. Jip is still not happy I’m going, but at least the hunger strike was short lived.

A curious side effect of this disease, at least in Jip’s case, is that the present mostly trumps the past and the future. She doesn’t forget things, the way Alzheimer’s people do, but in most conversations her focus returns to the hereandnow after just a few minutes. Maybe it’s nature’s way of preventing her from being overwhelmed by the big picture.

Or maybe she’s much more spiritually evolved than I’ll ever be. Strike that. She is definitely more spiritually evolved than I’ll ever be.

Green Light

After watching the current three-person team over the past 48 hours, I feel confident enough to proceed with plans to leave Thailand for three weeks …

...and to tell Jip that I’m going. Before this morning, I had thought I could save her needless worry by delaying this announcement. To be really honest, I was also afraid of her reaction. Jip continues to be unpredictable in both good and bad ways.

For instance, she surprised me pleasantly the other day by saying she’d like to come along to an evening talk at the Siam Society. She’d attended once before, about 18 months ago, when we lived near enough that we could walk over there together. This time the journey required a taxi and a bit more hassle, but she didn’t complain once, and seemed to really enjoy the lecture.

Dealing with a trip to the other side of town, though, is not in the same league as dealing with my going to the other side of the planet. I figured she wouldn’t be too happy about it. I even rehearsed my speech before finally springing the news of my departure.

“Good idea,” she said, after I let her in on the secret I’d been carrying around, “you need some time with your family now and then.”

What? I wrote out talking points so I could defend them … and she agrees with them?

Of course things didn’t turn out to be that simple. An hour later, Jip had thought things over and decided that maybe I didn’t need to return from the U.S. She tried to remove her wedding ring, but she couldn’t get it off. Not long after that, she thought of a few other threats.

Underneath her anger, I’m sure, is fear. What if I don’t come back? What if the caregivers forget the routine? What if … you name it?

Down to the Wire

I must really need a vacation. These days whenever the phone rings, I dread that it will be a caregiver, calling to quit. Or if one of them is a few minutes late for their shift, I begin to worry that they’re never going to show up.

These fears, unfortunately, are founded on experience. Since the departure of our two veterans three weeks ago, we’ve met nine different people. Some stay just a day. Others stay a week and then tell me (rarely face to face) they’ve decided their commute is too long, or their stomach problems are acting up, or whatever.

Hiring this time has been more stressful than usual because my trip back to the States is in doubt. I’m supposed to leave next Monday, but I’ve again had a very tough time finding—and keeping—a team of three who will have spent enough time with Jip before then.

Earlier this week, I was really sure I would have to cancel. We had one person no-show (disappeared without a trace after her first day), one call in sick on her second day (I was sure the “fever” was invented, but luckily she did re-appear), and one limp in 30 minutes late (motorcycle accident).

I took a day off (no choice, really—I’d told the limper, who I thought was my sole remaining employee, to go get an x-ray) and scrambled to find two more caregivers. Jip of course knows that I’ve been working the phones, but I still haven’t told her about my travel plans.

Normally, taking care of Jip for 12 hours is tiring enough—these last few weeks have been a recipe for exhaustion. But yesterday another pair showed up from the agency. One looks good. Maybe I’ve finally got a team that will stay at least the rest of the month. Stay tuned.