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8:58pm October 15, 2014
I miss him already. He taught me how to be laid back and let things happen. Not something I’m normally good at, but he is. He was an amazing caregiver and an all around good person. And I think he worked for me for five years. I always told him, if you need to leave it is fine. I know you’re paid to spend time with me and that inserts weird power dynamics into the relationship. But if I gave him Dave Hngsburger or Harriet McBryde Jonnson or Connie Panzarino or Dick Sobsey to read, he read it and took it to heart. We had lots of discussions about disability rights and ethics and we were fine disagreeing with each other as long as we respected the other person had reasons for tier beliefs. We were the same way about religion, and had amazing theological discussions. And trust me I don’t usually put amazing and theology in the same sentence. The job of caregiver is odd. You are too intimately involved in someone’s life not to form an emotional bond. But you can’t really be friends, not usually, because of power and money. And you shouldn’t generally try to be friends, for other reasons that have to do with preventing the disabled person from forming our own friendships with regular people, like other disabled people or just random people who aren’t paid to be around us. And at the same time, you do get attached. And I really like this guy. He’s what I wish I had in a grandfather, If I’m watery earth, he’s watery air. He’s just a great guy. I told him he was always welcome to visit, but not to promise to visit because I didn’t want to make a liar out of him. I’ve never had a staff person promise to visit then follow up on it. That’s fine. I just prefer honesty. Including avoiding self delusion. Anyway I will miss him. I hope to see him again but will never count on it. He’s a great guy. Truly in this field for the right reasons. And he is the kind of guy who could look at the bile and blood that came out of my feeding tube and say “if you forget what this is, it’s actually quite beautiful”. And he has a good heart. I hope he lives a long time so his grandchildren get the full benefit of growing up with him in the house (they’re a multigenerational household and he does a lot of child care, loves kids). Also the kind of guy who when raising his own kids, allowed their guinea pigs to nest inside their couch until it became intolerable and they had to throw out the couch. Quirky and sweet and not too concerned with being masculine. Great guy. Will miss him. Already miss him.

I miss him already. He taught me how to be laid back and let things happen. Not something I’m normally good at, but he is. He was an amazing caregiver and an all around good person. And I think he worked for me for five years. I always told him, if you need to leave it is fine. I know you’re paid to spend time with me and that inserts weird power dynamics into the relationship.

But if I gave him Dave Hngsburger or Harriet McBryde Jonnson or Connie Panzarino or Dick Sobsey to read, he read it and took it to heart. We had lots of discussions about disability rights and ethics and we were fine disagreeing with each other as long as we respected the other person had reasons for tier beliefs. We were the same way about religion, and had amazing theological discussions. And trust me I don’t usually put amazing and theology in the same sentence.

The job of caregiver is odd. You are too intimately involved in someone’s life not to form an emotional bond. But you can’t really be friends, not usually, because of power and money. And you shouldn’t generally try to be friends, for other reasons that have to do with preventing the disabled person from forming our own friendships with regular people, like other disabled people or just random people who aren’t paid to be around us. And at the same time, you do get attached.

And I really like this guy. He’s what I wish I had in a grandfather, If I’m watery earth, he’s watery air. He’s just a great guy.

I told him he was always welcome to visit, but not to promise to visit because I didn’t want to make a liar out of him. I’ve never had a staff person promise to visit then follow up on it. That’s fine. I just prefer honesty. Including avoiding self delusion.

Anyway I will miss him. I hope to see him again but will never count on it. He’s a great guy. Truly in this field for the right reasons.

And he is the kind of guy who could look at the bile and blood that came out of my feeding tube and say “if you forget what this is, it’s actually quite beautiful”. And he has a good heart. I hope he lives a long time so his grandchildren get the full benefit of growing up with him in the house (they’re a multigenerational household and he does a lot of child care, loves kids). Also the kind of guy who when raising his own kids, allowed their guinea pigs to nest inside their couch until it became intolerable and they had to throw out the couch. Quirky and sweet and not too concerned with being masculine. Great guy. Will miss him. Already miss him.

Notes:
  1. tinytigerstripes said: I can understand how you feel. I have a similarily good relationship to my social worker/care giver (assisted living). I like her alot and we are both really into dogs.
  2. ooksaidthelibrarian reblogged this from withasmoothroundstone
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