You know what, the woman who left after eleven days was repeatedly asked for her papers, again and again and again by my mother. Every time she went home on the weekend, she said she would bring the papers back, proving she was on an open work permit. She did not bring the papers. She was asked a second time, and she stated to my mother, “When I come back, I will definitely bring my papers”. And when this persistence continued, apparently on the 19th in the morning, she woke up and told my mom that she was going to go to work at the hospital. And my mom said, “Hospital?” She said, “Yes, I have a relative and I got a job at the hospital.”
I don't know, Dean, how many employers these women have been through in their 24 months, but I can tell you that they were treated with love, with care, compassion, and respect.
And if I can just add in closing, Mr. Tilson, anyone who has been to my home will see the accommodations these caregivers lived in. It is a beautiful basement apartment—1,500 square feet, furnished with a 60-inch flat-screen TV, mahogany furniture, beautiful carpets, state-of-the-art technology, and a kitchen—all for the caregivers to live in by themselves, because there are only three people in my house: me, my mother, and my brother. I'm usually in Ottawa, my brother is usually at work, and my mom is at home by herself.