So What's Next?

           You may recall that I explained that my brothers and I are dealing with our widowed mother who has become more frail in recent years, and has just celebrated her 85th birthday. We talked again about how we could do this or that, but created no specific steps. With mom in a seemingly more precarious position than ever before, what are we to do?

We all wanted to be sure that we were treating Mom fairly, but that she was safe. So do you make ‘safe’ decisions, even if it drives the person you are caring for crazy?

Like walking. You and I take walking for granted. Mom needs help to walk, heavily leaning on my arm each time we go for dinner or simply to the store. Do I mind? Not at all. Its sweet for me to have Mom on my arm when we walk into a favorite restaurant of hers. I think she likes it, too. But don’t tell her that she needs assistance to walk, and heaven forbid you would bring a walker to her with the suggestion that it will help her get around the house.

“Walkers are for old people” she once said to me. Even I was speechless, as the obvious reply  would not have been the kindest of answers. If mom embraces the use of a walker, she is embracing her old age and, by extension, her mortality. She doesn’t want to do it. My brothers’ instincts are just like mine…she has to use it to be safe. “Tell her that” is our response to each other, with bewildered looks to each other.

So, in order to take care of her we strongly suggest she use a walker, but we won’t make her use one. Do we risk jeopardizing her safety? Yes, but we dare not insist lest. . .lest. . .what? And therein is the problem. None of us wants to offend our parents. But neither do we want to put them in harm’s way. So we struggle to find the right balance (and we happily let mom hang on to our arms every chance we get.

Tim, Tom and I are struggling with other, similar safety issues. Using the stairs of her split level house. Do we simply install the chair glides? Will she use it? And cooking? Will she remember that she left the stove on? Her bedroom is on the top floor, the kitchen the middle, and laundry on the lower floor of the split level house. Do we suggest that we combine these on one floor?  I can just imagine her response…”And wreck this house? Forget it.”  

So we struggle with safety and familiarity and hope to find a way to gently bring her to the next steps in life, whatever they may be. In our case, the next steps are not any easier than when we had mom sign her living will and power of attorney documents, but that somewhat humorous story is for another blog entry. . .

origingally posted  3-16-11

What Will Mom Think?

           What will Mom think when we broach this subject? That’s the question my brothers and I had when we discussed having ‘the talk’ with her. The talk is, of course about having someone assist her at home. About having her spend time at the senior center. (What? Mom? A senior? Oh wait. . .she is eighty-five years old). The talk that implicitly acknowledges that she is mortal. That we cannot pretend any longer. We can’t pretend that mom will always be there to make us peanut butter sandwiches when we come in from the cold, from playing football. Those years are long gone. But if you don’t address it directly, you hold on to a thread of that life, of that time. But that time is gone.

           So what were we afraid of? What would Mom think of us? What would Mom think of her own life? What would Mom think we were trying to do?

           In our extended family, we have seen the best and worst of dealing with seniors in their golden years. We have seen people with Florence Nightingale-esque, selfless giving and sharing, doing everything possible to make the final years of their loved ones as comfortable and happy as possible. We have also seen those that resembled vultures.

           Would Mom think we were vultures, trying to ‘get at’ the inheritance early? Would she see us as Florence Nightingales? With three boys, that one is unlikely. . .but what would she think?

           Facing this question, we were naive. We thought, since we knew our motives were pure and driven only by the need for Mom to be safe and healthy, she would surely see it that way. I’m not sure we were correct.  “Why are you doing this to me?” was the delayed reaction. She is holding on to the “I-can-take-care-of-everything-myself” stance. Bravo for her and her independence. But she can’t walk on her own. She needs help. But is that my decision to make?

           When we were young boys, if we were at the neighborhood store and Mom saw someone who was struggling with bags, she would say “go help that poor woman.” When a neighbor lost a loved-one, she would have us help the family any way we could. Mow the lawn. Walk the dog. Whatever. Now that she was the ‘older woman struggling with her bags,’ surely she would understand that her well-raised boys were there to help her. Right?

           Not exactly.

           We needed to allow her the full authority to make the final decisions to move forward. Even though it scared us, we would not force the issue (at least not yet). We were sure she would see the wisdom of putting things in place for her to be able to move or to receive services, should the need arise.  At the present, we’re S L O W L Y walking through the process of having her enrolled in a program that will help her, monthly, with basics. She is a strong-willed woman who is proud of her home. She needs to see all the options.

           We’ll keep things moving. Hopefully.

When Mom and Dad are Now in Your Care. . .My Own Story

I’ve helped hundreds of families make those tough decisions. My law office has a good reputation as caring professionals. We have a heart, and we are there to help.

We have worked with the family members, their financial planners, their priests and pastors. We’ve worked with accountants and even other attorneys. These decisions are tough. How do we best help Mom and Dad, and how do we gently tell them when it might not be safe to stay in their own home?

I have been very pleased with myself. I have a good handle on this ‘senior care’ thing.  Then it was my turn. With my own mother.

My brothers called an ‘emergency meeting’ on how to care for Mom. It seems Mom had fallen and, while there was no immediate crisis, it brought home the need to deal with this issue proactively. As the attorney who deals with these issues every day, I helped lay out a plan of action. I would do A, my brother Tim would do B, and Tom would do C. That was at Mom’s 80th birthday party.

I did A. And that’s where it stopped. I didn’t raise the issue again. My brothers had good reasons to not do B and C. And I had good reason to let things sit. These were uncomfortable discussions. “We’ll get to it later,” I thought.

Mom turned 85 a few months ago. And we’re only now getting to it.
There are so many considerations.  Should a person live alone at 85? Why not?  I am accustomed to the legal considerations, but the personal considerations. . .they are the difficult ones to deal with.

Should we let Mom stay at home? In a split level house that is fraught with potential falls on steps?  Never mind that she is healthy, albeit more frail than she was at 75 or 80. And what business do I have in telling Mom what to do and when to do it? Dave Ramsey jokingly calls it the “powdered butt” syndrome. “When someone has powdered your butt, it’s hard to take advice from them about anything.” Mom was there when I broke my arm as a six year old. Who am I to tell her it’s time to make some changes?

In this blog, I hope to explore my own adventure, not as much as an estate planning attorney, but more as a professional who is dealing with these considerations on a personal level.  Please add your comments or questions. I hope that by sharing my story, someone else, and maybe even someone else’s mother, will be helped.

Putting All the Pieces Together. . .

           I like puzzles. One of the ways I end a stressful day is to work on a puzzle. . .usually harbors with brightly colored boats or beautiful landscapes. Each puzzle piece works together with its neighbor to form the whole. Each piece alone can seem like little more than a colored geometric shape. More accurately, a shape that resembles an amoeba from a ninth grade slide. But when you view them together, they form a lovely scene.

           Each piece of the puzzle of how to take care of mom is the same way. When I said, “Mom , we need to have your living will in place,” she looked at it like the single piece of the puzzle that it is. “I have plenty of time for that” she said.  This one document, by itself, seemed very threatening to her. It was very threatening to her. Here was her youngest son giving her advice about what she had to do. Were we, her children, suddenly trying to get her ready to die? Did we know something she didn’t know?  She felt rushed. Scared. And she isn’t alone.

           When your dentist explains to you what it’s going to feel like, and where it might pinch or hurt, and how long it will last, you understand. You don’t necessarily like it, but you are prepared for it. After all, you made an appointment right? You drove to the dentist office, you walked in, and when you saw the man or woman in the white coat approach you in the fancy dentist chair, you were ready. The entire process prepared you for it. The appointment made intentionally, the trip, all the ‘dental trappings’ of the visit.

           That’s not the way it is for many of us when we’re talking to our parents about estate planning and end-of-life planning. In fact, we often show them one piece of a puzzle (and not the big picture) like a living will (like I did!).  How would you feel if, without warning one afternoon when you were at home watching your television, your dentist popped into your living room unannounced and said “Now this is going to sting a little” and then shot your gums with Novocain while he explained to you that drilling this tooth right now really is, after all, for your own good? You would not be ready for it. . .

           So my first go-round with my own mother, which was more like the dentist example than I care to admit, did not go so well. She took my expertly-crafted documents and promised to look at them. Later. I had failed to impress her with my “you can trust me, I’m a lawyer” routine.   And guess what. . .later never came.

           After several years, when my brothers and I got up the courage to again broach the subject with each other, let alone with mom, we took a different approach. Since I’m a lawyer surrounded by two engineers, I took the lead. Mom and I talked about it. Yes, I raised the issue, and yes, that was a little uncomfortable, but I started very slowly. We talked about other family members who had XYZ problems but were able to work through them with the help of family. We talked about why I thought a living will was important. I told her some of the stories I had witnessed, first-hand, as an estate attorney. Most of my clients are over sixty-five years old, so I deal with these issues on a regular basis.

           Across the span of several visits home, we continued the conversation. I had set the stage. When I felt that she was comfortable, I asked her if we could all get together to execute the living will. She said “Oh, I guess so.” It was still as uncomfortable as when the dentist says, “Okay, now open wide.” You never respond gleefully or with a “With Pleasure!”Mom’s “I guess so” was her affirmation of moving in the direction she knew she needed to go.

           The events of the actual execution of the documents were somewhat comical, and perhaps for another blog posting. But, these were the initial steps we took with mom.

TAKE AWAYS? (As my pastor asks at the end of each sermon):

• Plan ahead.
• Don’t show one piece of the puzzle without explaining that it is only one piece of the puzzle.
• Move ahead slowly, but by all means move ahead.

Mother’s Day Might Take On A Whole New Meaning. . .

    We just celebrated mother’s day in our country. Taking care of Mom this year, while she is still at home, is made a little easier by the loving support she enjoys. Mom is in her eighties, and her three sons, of whom I am the baby, give her as much support as possible. Two of us are farther afield, so we each take a little of the financial burden on us to try to compensate for the distance we feel from her.

    The oldest son is the closest son, so he tries to be there more for her, but that’s not always feasible. Work schedules, personal commitments, and life’s daily requirements don’t always leave time for things, even when they are important things.

    But Tim, Tom and I are supplemented by Donna, Mom’s wonderful neighbor, who selflessly assists Mom with grocery shopping, helping with dog-care duties and the like. Until we got the call, three days before Mother’s Day, that Donna had broken her leg. This was the first event that shook Mom a little.

    This is the same Mom who said she didn’t need any help, that she was able to ‘manage’ on her own. Though we are concerned about her, we are balancing our concern with her need for independence, and to date, she has fared well. Her support system of her three boys plus Donna had worked for several years now.

    With Donna at least temporarily missing, Mom panicked and contacted us. We assured her that we could help ‘fill in the gap’ until Donna was on her feet again. We also could see that Mom’s veneer of independence was fairly thin.  

    So do we push ahead like a bull in the china shop, use this incident as ‘proof’ that Mom needs to take steps in the direction of having some daily assistance? In home or in an assisted living, doesn’t matter which.

    No. We continue to guard Mom’s dignity before all else. And we allow this incident to be a small indicator, like the light on your dashboard that alerts you that you need to keep an eye on something.

    Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Enjoy your surroundings. Enjoy the home you have known for so long...we’re here to catch you if you fall.