I needed help.
So, we made an arrangement.
Dad could still take care of himself, but he needed regular glaucoma checkups and ongoing medical care to make sure the disease was not causing other problems.
Dad’s neighbor, Ben, had known our family for decades and had long felt like one of us. He was retired, and itching for something to do.
So, we made an arrangement.
The plan gave me peace.
Every Thursday, I paid Ben to drive Dad wherever he needed to go: glaucoma checkups, the grocery store, the pharmacy, or lunch.
Ben said, “Your father spent years helping people. Let somebody return the favor without making it weird for him.”
The plan gave me peace.
I visited when work allowed, and Dad and I spoke daily. He described meals cooked by touch, audiobooks he hated, and checkers games Ben allegedly lost on purpose.
Dad never pressured me to visit more.
