The Inspiration for Blue
My grandfather was an amazing man. He lived a challenging life after being born in rural Quebec — he enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War 2, worked at an oil refinery in Bahrain, and was an entrepreneur in Edmonton. Ambitious and dutiful, grandpa never shied away from a challenge. In losing his wife to ovarian cancer, he was, by all accounts, a rock for our family. His sense of humour and playful disposition were unwavering — life rarely got him down. One of the few times I’ve ever had trouble speaking publicly was delivering his eulogy.
When grandpa started to develop dementia, it changed a lot of things for our family. Quickly, he couldn’t live in his home by himself, and moved into a retirement home in Edmonton. Family would try to visit often, but we eventually moved him to Vancouver, where he could have more consistent support with 2 of his kids nearby.
My mom, who is a registered nurse by training, took on the mantle of primary caregiver, partnering with her sister (my aunt) to share the load. For the first two years, I lived in Boston while attending Harvard for my MBA. My sister and father, who is a physician, lived in town the whole time — we were all ready and willing to lend a hand. If any group should have been well equipped to manage grandpa, a man who was loved by everyone, it was us. The years that followed were among the most challenging of my mom and aunt’s lives - and the most helpless of mine. They did everything for grandpa. They never viewed it as a burden — they loved their dad, and were willing to do whatever it took, but it was a hard experience for both of them. From the outside, none of us had a clear sense of how we could help them, though we all wanted to. A few things in particular were tough:
Supporting Grandpa
The core task of visiting grandpa, which had once been the most enjoyable thing in the world, became a challenge. He was different. In a moment he could be his old, hilarious, mischievous self, but more often he was a worried, confused version, stuck in a loop about whatever was worrying him that day. His needs were relentless.
Supporting my Mom and Aunt
I can’t tell you the number of times I found out about a way I could have helped… 3 days too late. Or the number of people who lived far away and had no idea what was going on (including me at business school). Everybody wanted to do more, but didn’t know what to do. The needs were hidden, and our collective good will amounted to very little.
Feeling good about my role
I still don’t feel good about my role in the process. I don’t think I ever will. I’m eternally grateful not only to my mom and aunt, but also to the staff at his nursing home and Veterans Affairs Canada, both of whom had clear ways to pitch in. A few members of my family just knew what to do — I wasn’t one of them.
Watching my mom and aunt was inspiring — the only thing more constant than their struggle was their commitment and resilience. I couldn’t help but think, however, that there should be a better way. An easier way for people like me to get involved.
Our family’s story is not unique.
Indeed, as I talk more with people about what we’re trying to do with Blue, it seems to be the norm. We’re trying to change the norm. We want a new experience of caregiving — one where we can focus on the rewarding elements of caregiving and free ourselves from the burdensome ones. One that will help us cope with the demographic shifts ahead, including an aging population and an increasing incidence of chronic diseases at all ages. It won’t simply be “solved” by blockchain or AI, at least not soon. Technology will merely be a tool to help us operate with more empathy. These goals are ambitious and they have to be. If we keep caring for loved ones the way we do now, we are in trouble.
