The Call

Random fun fact: I used to think I could be a romance novelist. In 1999 I was a Finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart contest which seemed like a big deal at the time. That novel, and the others I wrote, were never published. (Never mind, they were great practice for everything I’ve written since.) When I went to conventions, there was always at least one panel or workshop about what to do when you received The Call (an offer from a publisher, delivered by phone). It never came, but I kept the list of recommended questions by the phone for years, just in case.

That's me! (Bottom left hand corner. In 1999, when I was blonde.)

When our Care Coordinator put Doug on the Crisis List for a bed in a care home, I understood that it could be months before a suitable bed would become free. In fact, it was only weeks before  we got that Call.

It was a big shock. I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, or for the decision to be so difficult. That’s when I ought to have had a list of questions waiting beside the phone. What I knew was that my options were to accept that bed, or to decline the offer, at which point his name would be removed from all wait lists and we would have to wait three months before we could reapply, at which point he’d go back to the bottom.  

The person I most needed to talk to - Doug - was of, course, unavailable for the discussion. 

It would have been easy to ring my best friends, but I knew they would tell me to put on my own oxygen mask first, to allow myself the chance to have a full night of sleep, to let professionals help with the heaving lifting, that I wasn’t earning earning points for endurance, that no one would judge me-

Instead I sent an email to four of Doug’s closest friends, trusting his long-term friends would put his needs first. “I’m not even sure what I’m asking you. What should I do? Is it too soon?” They all wrote back to say, as gently and lovingly as possible, “Now is the time. Take the bed.”

I also emailed Doug’s neurologist in Ottawa, who replied: Louise: This is a heartbreaking situation, as you know.  In my experience, long-term care is recommended if someone needs assistance with all daily activities, including bathing and toileting. Long-term care is recommended if someone is too difficult to lift up at home. Individuals can remain at home with additional private homecare services, which are expensive, and may or may not be available in your area. The decision must come from your heart, as only you can know if care at home is adequate and sustainable at this time.

So I did what I do when faced with decisions, found a used envelope and wrote out a list of pros and cons. 

Then I rang my sister, and my Mum, and my best friends, and Doug’s family.

Then I cancelled that morning’s respite care, and we went to the Farmers’ Market. We bought butter tarts, and sat on the grass in the late autumn sun to eat them, then walked along the waterfront admiring the fall flora and foliage. 

There was a third option: I managed to negotiate an extra two weeks with Doug at home, and a care home only a third of the distance away. This allowed us to spend Thanksgiving at home together. 

And with hindsight, we are ever so lucky to have made that choice. He was ready for long term care, with professionals to care for him, and so many new people with whom to socialise. Had I declined that offer, he’d have been at the bottom of the wait lists when Covid struck - and the following year would have been very different for both of us.