Mondays with Mike: Taking care

Looking forward to our next Brewers game together.

Most readers know about our son Gus—but just in case: Gus was born with a rare genetic condition that left him with pretty severe developmental and physical disabilities. Since 2002, Gus has lived under the care of an organization called Bethesda Lutheran Communities. Bethesda offers a wide range of services to people with developmental disabilities in several regions across the country. Gus lives with three other guys in a group home Bethesda operates in Watertown, Wisconsin, which lies about halfway between Milwaukee and Madison.

Typically, Beth and I get up north to visit Gus about once a month, usually combining it with a getaway night in downtown Milwaukee. Like all routines, that’s been on hold, and based on the latest from Bethesda, it will remain that way for a good long while.

Last week I joined a town hall meeting—audio only, no Zoom. On the call were the CEO of Bethesda Lutheran Communities, Mike Thirtle, as well as other Bethesda executives and staff. I’d talked to Thirtle a few years back when he took over—he made it a point to talk to parents, guardians, and other loved ones early in his tenure. I was deeply impressed. He’s a veteran and has an incredible civilian resume, but beyond qualifications, he was refreshingly transparent, frank, and has remained accessible throughout his time at Bethesda.

That’s how the town hall went—Thirtle and his team were direct and thorough in describing what they were doing to keep the people in their care safe and healthy.

And it’s a lot.

All the Direct Service Professionals (DSPs)—the people who do the hard work of caring for people like Gus—are following strict PPE and cleaning protocols. The DSPs are also taking pledges to limit their own contacts outside of work.  And they’re taking scads of other special measures to help keep a pretty vulnerable group of clients safe and healthy.

People who rely on Bethesda’s services come with a wide range of cognitive abilities, and many have been frightened by staff wearing masks and goggles and agitated by interruptions in routine. For them, Bethesda has developed and distributed programs to calm residents.

The Bethesda team at the town hall clearly had a firm grasp of the virus and its epidemiology. And they were compassionate and honest. It couldn’t have been easy to tell dozens and dozens of us parents and other loved ones on the phone that the end of this lockdown isn’t really in sight. And that they couldn’t tell us when we will be able to see our people again. Having more testing available would help, but they’re in the same boat the rest of the country is.

They did describe what would have to happen in terms of case statistics before we can visit. But, “We’re not even halfway to the peak,” we were told.

Even so, during the Q&A, some attendees asked when they could see their sons, daughters, siblings, and friends again—as if they couldn’t believe what they’d heard earlier. One woman came to tears, and there was a kind of despair in others’ voices.

It was a difficult call, sobering, but ultimately comforting and inspiring.  On a personal level, I was reassured that our son is in good hands. On a broader level, I was deeply impressed by the intelligence, presence, and shear goodness of all these people taking care of other people. I always have been, really, but this test brings my gratitude and admiration to a new level.

During the call, I learned that Bethesda (and lots of other similar organizations) will not receive any support from any of the current federal coronavirus relief packages. Bethesda also made clear that the virus crisis is hitting its finances hard.

I’m lucky, I’m still working. So it was easy, immediately after the call ended, to hop online and make a donation. Selfishly, I invite you to do the same.

But more important, I hope you’ll be generous in your support of any organization you choose that is helping people hit by the coronavirus.

All those hero commercials are nice. But for those of us who are able, let’s put our money where our hearts are.