BY HARRIET PLATTS
“Are there other ways to get the tractor to town besides driving it yourself?” I asked Dad before going to bed. The late hour and residual jet lag were not optimal conditions for meaningful discussion but I asked anyway because I was anxious. For months, we had discussed, long-distance, his decision to sell the tractor and now we were at the point of disposition. How was “it” going to get to town? One more decision.
“Yeah, it would cost about a hundred bucks to tow it,” he offered, with a resistant, ‘I don’t want to pay it,’ tone in his voice.
My “Pop” is wired for doing things himself and when he can save a dime, well, it’s like winning a lottery bet. Equipped with mechanical engineering “know-how” and a good measure of initiative and devotion, he thrives on his list of projects. A self-described tinkerer, he is always up to something, especially around taking care of the house he and Mom built together. She’s been gone for seven years, now.
While “know-how,” initiative, and resilience have served him well, he’s managed to get himself into a few injurious situations in recent years resulting in hospitalizations and rehab stays. His journey to honesty and awareness regarding his (evolving and devolving) physical capacities has been fraught at times with stubbornness, injury, frustration, and sometimes, a touch of foolishness. This weighs on me, living so far away.
“Dad, I know you love driving the tractor, and I just don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you doing this.” I worried about the unpredictable impacts of a 10-mile tractor ride exertion on a person with chronic spinal limitations.
He acknowledged my concern with a nod, but no words. We retired for the night.
On some level, I knew he had already mapped this whole trip, the route, the rest stops, and the contingency plans in the event the old ’64 International tractor might take its last gasp on the way. This project had become a dream, imagining a “last ride” out on the road.
Chowan County countryside is beautiful in springtime, with farm fields tilled, and being made ready for planting. Farmhouses, barns, and small family graveyards of extended relatives would mark the route. Driving in the country is a spiritual experience. You can go slow.
We met at the kitchen table the next morning. His breakfast of choice, a bowl of runny instant cheese grits, a side of sausage links, and a cup of instant coffee, all prepared in the microwave, awaited him.
“Morning, Pop,” I plopped at the table beside him.
“Morning sweetie,” he returned.
We sat together, quiet moments passing. Both of us being introverts, it’s a relief to not have to fill the space between us with words so early in the day.
It had been five months since our last visit. Sizing him up, he appeared relaxed, and less achy in his body and mood. Having my husband and I around for the last few days already seemed to be “re-filling” his reservoir. Getting up to nuke his coffee again, he moved with ease.
Before coming down for breakfast, I rehearsed my very good reasons why Dad should not drive the tractor to town himself. To be honest, I didn’t know if I had it in me to extend emotional support and advocacy once again (across the miles) because of a bad choice made. Besides, what responsible daughter lets her 89-and-a-half-year-old parent get up on a tractor? My reasoning seemed very sensible and justified.
Finishing breakfast, I lingered at the table, waiting for any cues from him about our exchange the night before.
“I’ve decided I want to try driving the tractor to town … I feel up to it … you and Fred will be there if we need to make adjustments along the way … I want to try.”
Initially, the clarity of his declaration was disorienting. I was all prepared to do another round of pros and cons with him, but obviously, he had already sized me up and determined it best to make the call for himself.
“So having it towed is really off the table?” I ask.
“I want to try,” he repeated himself.
I felt my exhale, all my reasoned thoughts and exhaustion give way like water that finally gets to tumble over a cliff edge, set loose. I was slowly realizing that he didn’t just want to do this, he needed to do this. Further, the power of his need would also require me to relinquish my own urgent need to protect him.
Instinctively pivoting, searching for a new inner footing, I heard compassion arise from within: “You can persist with your protecting, raining on his parade, or you can yield, and let be.”
“Well, okay,” I turned, looking directly toward him. “What can I do to help?”
Things moved swiftly from there. Having my nod of “blessing,” Dad collected himself, calling out signals for the next steps to be ready to leave around 2 p.m.
He climbed up on the tractor, his spirit and body moving slowly but with lightness and assurance. He pressed the ignition button and the old motor turned over once again on the first try, a good sign.
Cinching the chin strap of his straw hat, he called above the engine noise.
“I’ll see you at the farm,” he said with a smile, and off he went with a wave, clutch smoothly released, deftly shifting to second and then third gear before reaching the first curve down the road.
We followed him at a just-right distance, meeting him at his rest stops with the watering bottle and hoots of enthusiasm. He looked so strong, relaxed, and SO very happy. And I felt so relieved and joyful, joining him in exhilaration for the fulfillment of his dream. We were all in all the way to town.
Agency is the freedom to choose and to act. To support (allow) this free choice in one we care for, is an act of love.
Rev. Harriet Platts, 62, retired hospice chaplain, describes herself as an urban contemplative, seeking wholeness, balance in the “everyday” of life. Her creative outlets include iPhone photography, particularly portraitures, and writing urban field notes about what she experiences in relationship to the natural world. She loves walking, reading historical novels, and cultivating her community of friends and family.
The Truth About Long-Distance Caregiving
Harriet Platts has been providing long-distance, caregiving support tracking for both her parents for more than 15 years, with episodic, increased involvement, and over-the-phone and in-person visits driven by need, medical crises, and transition. Her mother died in 2017, and she lost her only brother and sibling in 2020. She currently lives in Seattle and her father is aging in place (at this time) on the Chowan River, outside of Edenton, North Carolina. They are 2,500 miles apart. Platts remains connected with her father by phone/texting most days, and in-person visits two to three times a year. “From a distance, I had a practice of writing-mailing cards with hymn lyrics written in them of some of their favorites. Dad and Mom sang at the dinner table, as was a family custom. I also often sang to them on the phone,” she says. Platts can continue long-distance care because of the robust circle of extended family, neighbors, and local support near her father. Other long-distance caregivers are not so lucky.
According to the “Caregiving in the U.S. 2020” study by AARP and the National Alliance of Caregiving, 11 percent of family caregivers live an hour or more away from their aging or ailing family member, with many living hours away. Long-distance caregivers spend nearly twice as much on care as those with family members nearby because of the need to hire help. If you are a long-distance caregiver, check out aarp.org/caregiving for a wealth of resources.
FOR WASHINGTON
Your Vote Needed to Keep Long-term Care Benefit in Washington
Working Washingtonians, and especially those caring for loved ones who are sick or aging, should be on the lookout for an important vote this November. If passed, Initiative 2124 will increase costs for working people, including nurses, teachers, and firefighters, by eliminating Washington’s long-term care insurance program.
I-2124 will send more people into debt when faced with expensive long-term care bills and private insurance premiums they can’t afford. And more than 820,000 family caregivers in our state will lose important supports and benefits that help them take care of their families and loved ones.
Family caregivers are the backbone of our long-term care system, helping with everything from buying groceries and managing medications to bathing and dressing. Caring for a family member or close friend is one of the most important roles we are likely to play in our lifetime. However, the emotional, physical and financial tolls of caregiving can be profound.
Washington’s long-term care insurance program provides some important relief. For instance, funds can be used to help pay family caregivers to offset lost income while they are providing care. Funds can also be used to hire homecare aides and pay for home safety modifications, meal delivery, or assistive technology. If passed, I-2124 will strip away these critical supports.
AARP, the Washington State Nurses Association, labor unions representing home health care workers, doctors, grocery workers, teachers, and organizations like the MS Society representing Washingtonians living with pre-existing conditions are all urging a “no” vote on I-2124.