Caring in Spite of Ourselves

It's the most dangerous job in healthcare.

I know this, because a few years ago I left my executive marketing job to become one of those people who might someday drive me to the grocery store or feed me or wash me. We're called care workers.

I wanted to know: Who will take care of me when I need it? Seventy million aging baby boomers are facing a shortage of care workers. One reason may be that we—care workers, not baby boomers—suffer the highest rate of workplace violence in the U.S.  

I wanted to know: Why is that? I wanted to know, What can I do? 

And I wanted to know: What are they talking about when they talk about love? (What am I talking about when I talk about love?—for I've come to love my caregiving clients, too.)

My Mother's Keepers is a memoir of caring on the clock—of Holocaust survivors and aging leftists; of Filipino networks, dauntless refugees, and accidental caregives; of Mozart, joy, shame, poverty, largesse, and the future America seems to be making for itself.