Elaine Soloway's Caregiving Series: The Wrong War

Air Force Wings

In 1956, when he was 21, Tommy enlisted in in the US Air Force, where he trained as a radio operator. Eventually, he rose to the rank of Corporal and was stationed in Japan until honorably discharged in 1959.

I didn’t know Tommy in his youth; we didn’t meet until 1996, and then married two years later in a Las Vegas ceremony officiated by an ecumenical minister. But, I often pictured that affable boy in those long ago days — trim in his uniform, cap atop his military crew cut, proud to serve his country.

Those images surfaced recently when I dug through my husband’s papers to learn if he would be eligible for a US Department of Veterans Affairs benefit called “Aid and Attendance.”

If he passed the test, the V.A. would pay up to $1,644 per month to hire a home health aide. The application for benefits required a copy of Tommy’s separation papers, medical evaluation from a physician, and current medical issues. The Air Force papers were in my hand. His 2009 diagnosis of Primary Progress Aphasia, a form of dementia affecting the brain’s language center, was filed in the folder marked “Brain.”

For nearly a year, my daughters — who live in Los Angeles and Boston — had been urging me to find someone who could stay overnight with Tommy. They were disappointed that I halted my travels after I believed it was no longer safe to leave my husband home alone. I knew he could handle normal activities, but what if he had to call for help? His aphasia would have rendered him powerless in any emergency calls to 911 or neighbors.

When he was well, I travelled to either coast at least three times a year. Tommy, a stepfather who became bored at my desire to do nothing but stare at my grandchildren, or shadow my daughters, opted to stay put and housesit the dog.

While away, I would call him nightly. “Get your butt home,” he’d tease. Then, I knew all was fine. But, eventually that phrase was absent. Or, if he did manage a few words, they were dangerously frayed.

So, I saw that $1,644 monthly benefit as my salvation. That would be enough money to enlist the services of a home health agency to give me an occasional break, and to be assured Tommy would be safely tucked in his own home if I travelled to fawn over my offspring and theirs.

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Elaine Soloway's Caregiving Series: The Wrong War

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