The Help

When I worked outside the home, I was never a good homemaker–Earl, Heidi, and Jason would be the first ones to agree.  Fortunately, that was never important.  I wasn't bad, just not skilled.  While the family appreciated order, I couldn't create or maintain it.  I have to confess that while I could gaze enviously at a neat drawer, my house was full of "junk" drawers and closets.  

Then I stopped working outside the home due to the progression of my Ataxia.  Trouble was, I was no better able to work inside the home.  They say nothing is more dangerous than a woman at home with time on her hands.  I get it now–scary, to be sure.  I enjoyed being able to focus on one thing at a time–something I never had the time or inclination for pre-retirement.  But when I turned my focus on the house, armed with a computer, I began my transition from a laid-back person to an organizational nazi.  If I couldn't clean, at least I could (shudder) clear.  Earl headed for cover with his favorite t–shirts.

I wanted a little bit of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)–just enough to be able to be orderly without feeling a need to be.  I think that's like having a teeny, tiny, insignificant heart attack.  My favorite shopping destination is the Container Store in that ongoing, illusive quest for something that will finally turn me into an Organization Diva.  OK, my sights are set lower now and I've become officially strange, but it does take an eye that I had to work to acquire–and a little OCD.

When I thought about what I needed as my Ataxia progressed, I realized what I missed most was being able to do the things I used to do. Housekeeping? Nope, I'd never be good at that and it's better left to a professional; Yard work? Nope, I'd never be good at that and it's taken care of; Companionship? Nope, I have family and friends.  The solution--a personal assistant, an extension of me–only with good hands and feet, willing to do what I ask without offering unsolicited input.  An assistant could also help me maintain my new found organization.

Wanting to avoid over-reliance on favors, I hired Sandie for a few hours a week.  So far, four to six hours are enough to make me feel as if I can still manage my home and not depend on family and friends. I prefer to minimize the "honey–dos" when Earl gets home after a long day.  I only have Sandie for a couple hours, so I need to think about what really needs doing by someone else.  She and I have a routine that starts with a "sandie-do list"(a little OCD). 

She helps me with things I could no longer safely do myself or else the task would take me forever. Sandie goes to the dry cleaners, the bank, etc.  After I get the laundry going, she carries it to our closet, folds clothes and puts them away.  She transfers clean dishes unbroken from dishwasher to counter, so I can put put them away. She also plugs in Skeeter, assuring a full battery charge.  Although I can scoot and shop, there are some stores I avoid because they're so big. Sandie can go in, get my items while I sit in the car with an audiobook. If I need to go in, I have someone who can push a big cart, leaving me free to focus on my rollator--and not fall over.

I save the things I can do, even if they take forever, for later in the day. I hate to be sexist and say, "I needed a wife", but there you are.

Question:  What is green, rectangular, made of paper, and helps people with disabilities do things they can't do themselves?  Answer–money.  I'm fortunate to have a gainfully employed spouse who makes a very good living–not everyone is.  Having money makes a big difference in mitigating some effects of a disability or general aging.  While not exactly part of the 1%, I can afford to pay for some services.  But, if I didn't also have family and friends, I'm not sure what I'd do–probably over-rely.

The lesson: It takes a village and some funds.