Page Ninety-Seven.
Well, that was fast. Last week I mentioned that my job with the boys had ended for the summer. I wrote that I figured something would come along. It probably has and I start today.
A long time acquaintance approached me about helping her with an interesting situation. Okay... follow me closely here.
My acquaintance's name is Deb. Some years ago, she befriended a woman named Gretchen. Gretchen had some VERY serious issues with drugs and alcohol but when she was clean she was quite pleasant and charming. They gradually became close to the point that Deb saw Gretchen as the daughter she never had. (Deb is a single, former hippie.) Over the years Gretchen had three sons with, I think, the same man. Those sons today are 21, 19 and 15.
Gretchen was never able to stay clean for very long, but she could occasionally stay sober for a year or two. She and her sons moved in with Deb five or six or seven years ago. Two years ago the father died of an overdose. Shortly thereafter, Gretchen started using again. At that point, Deb told Gretchen that she should sign her youngest over to her because Deb didn't want him to end up in the state foster system when the inevitable happened. Gretchen did sign over guardianship to Deb sometime in 2011 I think. Gretchen then died of an overdose one year ago, spring of 2012.
Today, the oldest is a mess, in and out of jail; he has no interest in living a clean life. The middle is extremely responsible. He has a stable job at Bob Evans and is a strong student at Cleveland State University studying pre-law. He also lives next door to Deb. The youngest, Shem, lives with Deb and is as angry as you can imagine.
Both Gretchen and the dad were Jewish and Judaism is huge on welfare. One of the local Orthodox Jewish day schools knows of the situation and is giving Shem free tuition until he graduates, $18,000 per year, even though nobody was Orthodox. That's just the way Jewish communities operate. This person talks to this person who talks to this person. Then organizations find out about conditions and before you know it, scholarships are established even though there may just be a peripheral association. (Deb is an office manager. She makes enough to support two but not enough to pay for private school.) Thankfully, Shem enjoys school very much.
But, Shem takes much of his anger out on Deb, which is natural and Deb knows it. Of the many superficial, sticking points, is food. Of all the things this kid has to be angry about, food is absorbing much of his energy. (Of course, it's just an excuse to lash out.) Deb's never had to learn how to cook and she's vegetarian. So Shem carries on about how she's trying to starve him. Deb has spent a fortune on carry-out over the last year and Shem won't touch it. He keeps talking about learning to cook but he won't say what he wants to learn to cook. He challenges Deb to read his mind, basically. That's where I come in.
At first I was contacted to see about delivering ready-made meals. Then the plan changed and now Deb is thinking that because I'm a stranger, then perhaps Shem will communicate with me and allow me to teach him how to cook. Deb admitted that she really should have taken care of this issue a year ago. But the fact is, she's been mourning the loss of her very dear friend, besides having to raise this deeply troubled boy. So, in one hour I'm supposed to go shopping with Deb and begin my little summer escapade.
Wish me luck. The fact is, I really do have experience working with troubled youth, though I prefer normal, difficult, obnoxious teenagers with no real excuses to ones with actual problems. Of course, I'm walking into this with hopes that I can help. We'll see. At the very least, it'll keep him occupied a few hours per week.
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alcoholism. Show all posts
Monday, June 17, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Doctor Hanson
Page Twenty-Nine.
My mother's best friend was named Virginia. This blog isn't about her. It's about Doctor Hanson. He was my very first elder-care client. The reason I bring up Virgina is because she was sort of like my grandmother. I helped her a great deal around her apartment and running errands and so forth. From her I learned the concept of "companionship" as it relates to aiding the elderly. But she wasn't a client in any sense of the word. She was family. She merely prepped me for the profession.
Summer, '82 is when I passed out flyers looking for clients, the first time. This is a separate story for another time, but it's how I met Dr. Hanson. One of my responses came from a woman who lived in one of the very large homes on Fairmount Blvd. here in Cleveland Heights. She had an ex-husband who lived over near Shaker Square. He was a retired surgeon who was ill and needed help. She wanted to know if I was interested. Of course I was.
For the next three years, I helped him, usually twice a week, in the afternoons. We ran errands then we'd go back to his place. I'd make dinner and we'd sit, eat and chat. He died in '85 from his heart condition. He wasn't old, perhaps mid-sixties somewhere.
In spite of a very successful career in surgery and a loving family with four kids he wasn't really a happy man. He had a history with alcohol which wasn't resolved. Many people though he was sober through A.A. but he wasn't. I watched him drink. He was also very concerned over the health of his mother, much more than over his own health which was, in fact, far worse than hers. In fact, he minimized his own illnesses. He had a very large ulcer on his foot which he refused to take care of. One day he said to me, "it's not that bad. It isn't like you can see bone or anything." Maybe I couldn't see bone, but I sure saw stuff I shouldn't have. It was really large and deep. He also needlessly worried about money, to the point that the last six or eight months of his life he took to calling me only occasionally to save cash. But he had enough of it, believe you me.
It was a very valuable and positive relationship to me, though. He mostly was very nice, kind and helpful. At one point he even put me up for a few weeks 'cause I was waiting to move into a new place. He lent me his car on numerous occasions and always took me out for my birthday. He took his frustrations out on me only once, and it was a really bad scene. But he apologized quickly.
I was getting ready to quit my day job at Salon: Alpha-Omega and move out of town. The night prior to my last day at work he informed me that I'd need to help him out the next day. He wanted to fly home to see his mother and needed me to take him to the airport. I couldn't 'because I was booked solid at work doing hair, again, on my last day in Cleveland. He went ballistic with particularly cruel verbage. I didn't budge. Fifteen minutes later he apologized after calling his sister. She laid into him apparently and he showed sincere remorse.
That was really the only hiccup in our relationship. That was when I realized how angry he had to have been at his own life. I've always assumed that those few moments must've been similar to what his kids might have experienced growing up.
His ex-wife called me at work when he died. I went to the funeral and was struck by the lack of grief his family expressed. Well, they had to have been expecting it and they certainly knew how miserable he was in his illness. I think they thought, "now he's out of his misery". That is where some people go when their loved one dies.
Dr. Hanson was in my life for only a few years, thirty years ago. But here I am remembering him vividly. Isn't that amazing? We never can predict the long-term effect others will have on us or we on them. We never know when or how a single little act, positive or negative, will change a life. I hope I distribute positive ones more than negative. I think I do. (Please forgive me. I'm sounding a little like John-Boy crossed with Doogie Howser here.)
My mother's best friend was named Virginia. This blog isn't about her. It's about Doctor Hanson. He was my very first elder-care client. The reason I bring up Virgina is because she was sort of like my grandmother. I helped her a great deal around her apartment and running errands and so forth. From her I learned the concept of "companionship" as it relates to aiding the elderly. But she wasn't a client in any sense of the word. She was family. She merely prepped me for the profession.
Summer, '82 is when I passed out flyers looking for clients, the first time. This is a separate story for another time, but it's how I met Dr. Hanson. One of my responses came from a woman who lived in one of the very large homes on Fairmount Blvd. here in Cleveland Heights. She had an ex-husband who lived over near Shaker Square. He was a retired surgeon who was ill and needed help. She wanted to know if I was interested. Of course I was.
For the next three years, I helped him, usually twice a week, in the afternoons. We ran errands then we'd go back to his place. I'd make dinner and we'd sit, eat and chat. He died in '85 from his heart condition. He wasn't old, perhaps mid-sixties somewhere.
In spite of a very successful career in surgery and a loving family with four kids he wasn't really a happy man. He had a history with alcohol which wasn't resolved. Many people though he was sober through A.A. but he wasn't. I watched him drink. He was also very concerned over the health of his mother, much more than over his own health which was, in fact, far worse than hers. In fact, he minimized his own illnesses. He had a very large ulcer on his foot which he refused to take care of. One day he said to me, "it's not that bad. It isn't like you can see bone or anything." Maybe I couldn't see bone, but I sure saw stuff I shouldn't have. It was really large and deep. He also needlessly worried about money, to the point that the last six or eight months of his life he took to calling me only occasionally to save cash. But he had enough of it, believe you me.
It was a very valuable and positive relationship to me, though. He mostly was very nice, kind and helpful. At one point he even put me up for a few weeks 'cause I was waiting to move into a new place. He lent me his car on numerous occasions and always took me out for my birthday. He took his frustrations out on me only once, and it was a really bad scene. But he apologized quickly.
I was getting ready to quit my day job at Salon: Alpha-Omega and move out of town. The night prior to my last day at work he informed me that I'd need to help him out the next day. He wanted to fly home to see his mother and needed me to take him to the airport. I couldn't 'because I was booked solid at work doing hair, again, on my last day in Cleveland. He went ballistic with particularly cruel verbage. I didn't budge. Fifteen minutes later he apologized after calling his sister. She laid into him apparently and he showed sincere remorse.
That was really the only hiccup in our relationship. That was when I realized how angry he had to have been at his own life. I've always assumed that those few moments must've been similar to what his kids might have experienced growing up.
His ex-wife called me at work when he died. I went to the funeral and was struck by the lack of grief his family expressed. Well, they had to have been expecting it and they certainly knew how miserable he was in his illness. I think they thought, "now he's out of his misery". That is where some people go when their loved one dies.
Dr. Hanson was in my life for only a few years, thirty years ago. But here I am remembering him vividly. Isn't that amazing? We never can predict the long-term effect others will have on us or we on them. We never know when or how a single little act, positive or negative, will change a life. I hope I distribute positive ones more than negative. I think I do. (Please forgive me. I'm sounding a little like John-Boy crossed with Doogie Howser here.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)