An illustrative scenario.
When Helen was alive, she was the one who called.
The setup
Walter is 81. He lives on his own in the house in Guelph where he and Helen raised three kids. He volunteers at the hospital gift shop on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and he still does the crossword in pen.
For 52 years, Helen was the one who kept in touch. She called her sister every morning. She called the kids on Sundays. She knew which neighbour was away and whose grandson had a new job. If Walter ever needed checking on, Helen was right there.
The moment
Helen died two winters ago.
The phone got very quiet. Walter didn't mind the quiet, mostly. But one icy morning in February he slipped on the back step. He wasn't hurt, just shaken. He sat on the step for a while, getting his breath back.
And he thought: if I had broken my hip just now, who would know? His son is in Calgary. His daughters call on Sundays. It was a Wednesday.
He realized that the person who would have noticed was Helen. And nobody had taken over that job. Not because nobody cared. Because nobody knew it was a job.
What they decided
His daughter mentioned MyDailyCheck on a Sunday call. Walter said he'd think about it, which usually means no. Then he signed himself up the next morning.
He picked 9 a.m., every day. He leaves for the gift shop at half past nine on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so 9 works all week. The call comes to the cordless phone he carries from room to room.
The hard part was the list. "I didn't want to bother anyone." He added Ruth across the street, who has had a spare key for years, and his son. He didn't ask Ruth first. MyDailyCheck texted her, and she replied YES within a minute. She told him later she was glad he had asked.
He wrote down for Ruth which door to use and where he keeps his pills. Then he put it out of his mind.
A morning, now
At 9 the phone rings. A friendly voice says his name. He presses 1 before it finishes.
Most mornings, that's it. Nobody hears anything, because there is nothing to hear.
One morning he was on the phone with his sister-in-law and missed it. He saw the retry, pressed 1, and that was that. Ruth never knew.
His daughters still call on Sundays. But they stopped asking, at the end of every call, "Are you really okay, Dad?"
“Helen was the one who would have noticed. Now something does, and I don't have to ask anybody.”
— Walter, 81 (illustrative)
If this sounds like you
If you've lost the person who used to keep an eye on you, or you're worried about a parent who has, a quiet daily check-in can take over that one small job.
Living alone after losing a spouse →Questions people ask
Didn't it feel strange to sign yourself up?
For about a day. Then it felt like locking the door at night. Something sensible you do and stop thinking about.
Did you have to ask your neighbour first?
No. They text her and she says yes or no. I'm glad I mentioned it to her anyway. She said she'd been meaning to ask how I was managing.
What if you miss the call?
It tries again. I've missed one or two. You press 1 on the next one and nobody's bothered.
What's the cost?
$20 a month plus tax. Less than the paper.
Sign up for yourself. It takes about 3 minutes.
Pick your time and the people you trust. We'll do the asking.