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Dear Mom,

You’re right to worry about dad when you go into hospital. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t. I just felt that I was being leant on to sort out the situation. Then I felt all selfish for citing my problems as the reason why it would be difficult for me to help. But the pressure is on in the office. Our deadline for the next issue is in four weeks, and you’ve no idea how many changes the new editor wants to make to the magazine. I’ve no idea how many changes she wants to make. She’s one of those uncommunicative types who’ll never tell me exactly what she wants.

So it’s just not convenient for me to come and check on dad in the evenings. It’s over 2 hours drive! And has anybody thought what dad wants? He’s so used to his peace and quiet that I can’t imagine he’ll appreciate the army of helpers you’ve organized to invade the place with vacuum cleaners and hot meals. He’s been used to a minimum of fuss all his life. He can also look after himself. So I don’t understand why we have to take these inappropriate ways to look after him. There must be a simpler way to take care of him without infringing his independence.

My guess is that underneath all this fussing and arranging is the fear that he might fall again. No amount of well-intentioned ladies from your quilting class can help him if he slips like that time last summer.

What about this for an idea? One of my colleagues was telling me about it. It's called the Independent Living System. It’s a system of wall-mounted call buttons and a heart pendant that he can wear around his neck. So wherever he is in the house, if he gets into difficulty he’ll have a button with him to call for immediate professional help. And you know how much dad loves gadgets. He’ll be thrilled. Much more so than at the thought of having Mrs. Andreas coming in reciting her ailments one by one as he forces down her eggplant parmesan

The other alternative is to send Janie over. She is closer, but I don’t think her nutritional habits would appeal to her granddad – would he understand the term "a number 3 and a diet coke" if she suggested it for dinner? Besides, she’s wrapped up in her own security system at the moment – a 6’ 5" football-playing tank called Josh!

Let me know what you think. I’ll call you from the office.

Love

Alicia