Jack had his in home evaluation yesterday. It took an hour and a half. The caseworker, a friend of ours, was patient and thorough, especially when it came to evaluating Jack’s comprehension and his orientation to time and place. That was hardest for me, because he kept looking to me for help. I had to explain that I wasn’t allowed to help him.

Karen, the caseworker, started off with an easy question. “What month is it?” Jack looked blank and shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.” he answered. “I don’t think about those things.”

“That’s okay. What year is it?” Same response. “What town are we in?…Do you know what state you’re in?…What is this place called, where you live?…What is the number of the space where you live?” Jack drew a blank on all of these. For the last one, he answered, “I don’t know. I just look for the trailer.” That answer told me how he orients himself to place. It was both reassuring and unnerving.

“What day is it?” Karen then asked. Jack’s forehead wrinkled as he thought.

“Let’s see…Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday…I don’t know.” He thought some more, then his face brightened. “It’s today.” Karen smiled.

“That’s a good start. What is today called?” she asked him.

“Friday? I think it’s Friday.” Jack sounded unsure of himself, but he was right. It was a lucky guess. In his world, every day is just ‘today’.

“Now I want you to repeat these three words back to me.” Karen said. “Apple, penny, tomato.”

“Three words.” Jack answered. Karen nodded. “What are they?”

“Apple, penny, tomato.” Karen said. “Apple, tomato.” Jack repeated.

The questions continued. It was hard to watch Jack struggle with the answers. But it also ensured we would continue to receive help. At the end of the interview, Karen told us we’d been approved.

Several good things came out of the interview. One is that Karen will be sending someone to install a grab bar in the trailer, so Jack can get up without leaning on our rickety table. This man can also fix our damaged door, if Tim doesn’t do it first. I didn’t know they had someone who would do those things. I was planning to do them myself.

We may be getting more hours and more miles. That’s another good thing. Right now Jack is allowed sixty travel miles, which limits him to two out of town shopping trips per month. (We got a special allowance so Tim could take us to church on Sundays.) This means that Jack’s recreation is limited to going to the local beach or walking around the marina. He needs more opportunities for fun and for social interaction.

I told Karen this yesterday. Even though I do a lot for Jack, this is the one thing I can’t give him. I can’t take him to fun places like museums or fairs. I can barely take him out for dinner. I can’t give him the social interaction he needs to help keep him happy and active. It is the one way I feel like I’ve failed him. I’m hoping this will change.

The third thing is, Jack is now being screened for VA benefits. I don’t know how it happened. It has been on my to do list for literally months and I never seem to get to it. But three days ago, we got the initial application in the mail, and I immediately sent it back. It means a new boatload of paperwork but I don’t care. We need any help we can get.

The best thing, though, was my own light bulb moment. It actually happened before Karen came. I was rushing around the trailer, trying to get everything to look perfect, because I was afraid if it didn’t, I would be seen as unfit to care for Jack. (That fear has haunted me ever since I began this journey. I have always worried about not being good enough when it comes to caregiving.) I was stressed and anxious, and my anxiety was affecting Jack.

In the middle of my rushing around, though, my voice of reason suddenly spoke up. “Wait a minute!” it said; and I screeched to a halt. “Don’t you make sure Jack is safe? (Yes.) Don’t you make sure he eats, that he’s getting healthy food? (Yes.) Don’t you give him intellectual stimulation and help him to communicate? (Yes.) Screw the trailer and what it looks like. That has nothing to do with how well you take care of him!”

So I took a deep breath, sat down, had a cup of coffee, and left the dishes in the sink. I didn’t appologize for them when Karen walked through the door. And I learned something else that morning—that Karen was there for Jack. She didn’t give a damn about the dishes.