A Resolution with Dad: Moving Forward with Mom’s Assisted Living Plans

Sometimes, after weeks or even months of frustration, disagreements, and conversations that seem to go nowhere, I finally get a little progress.

I'm not ready to declare victory, throw confetti, or announce that everyone is suddenly getting along. But we've reached a resolution, at least for the time being, regarding Mom's finances and her next chapter.

And that's something.

A Text Message on the Drive Home

While returning from my Cozumel cruise, I received a text message from my father.

He wanted to know where I'd been. Apparently, I also had some packages waiting for me at the house.

That started a conversation.

I was driving from Columbia, South Carolina, back to Mount Pleasant and using Android Auto to manage the text conversation. As sometimes happens, a simple exchange about packages turned into something considerably more important.

We started talking about Mom.

Specifically, what comes next with her move into an assisted living facility.

If you've been following along with my blog, you know this hasn't exactly been a smooth process.

There have been disagreements, frustration, questions about finances, conversations about Power of Attorney, and my father's reluctance to provide information about Mom's employer 401(k).

I've written about the challenges of visiting Mom in skilled nursing, touring assisted living facilities, and trying to balance her needs with the financial realities of making a move.

If you're just joining the story, you have some reading to do!

But this conversation was different.

We actually made some progress.

We've Reached a Resolution, For Now

The current plan is to establish a trust with funds designated exclusively for Mom's care.

That's important to me.

I've reiterated that I don't want the money for personal use. I'm not looking to benefit financially from any of this.

The money is intended for Mom.

That includes:

• Housing and assisted living expenses.

• Furniture and furnishings for her new living space.

• Medical expenses and related needs.

• Other expenses directly associated with her care and well-being.

The objective is to make sure the resources are available for the person who earned them and needs them.

We have an appointment next Thursday to open the account and move this process forward.

Is everything resolved? No.

Is this the final chapter of the financial discussions? Probably not.

But we've moved from arguing about what should happen to taking a step toward making it happen.

I'll take that progress.

The Next Step: Making Sure Mom Has What She Needs

One of the things I've been trying to accomplish throughout this process is making sure Mom has the resources to live somewhere appropriate.

Assisted living isn't inexpensive. There are monthly costs, potential additional services, furniture, personal items, and medical-related expenses to consider.

I want to make sure we're planning for all of that.

I also want to be clear that this isn't about controlling someone else's money for my benefit. It's about making sure Mom's money is used for Mom.

We've spent enough time going back and forth. Now it's time to put some structure around the finances and start moving forward.

Next Thursday's appointment is an important step.

A Little Time with Mom

I saw Mom on Tuesday after dialysis.

Today, Wednesday, I went to dialysis again, but I didn't make it over to see her.

It was one of those back-to-back days that can be particularly rough. Between the treatment, the time involved, and everything else going on, sometimes I need to recognize that I can't do everything every day.

I plan to see her Saturday.

And I have something for her.

Ivory soap.

Yes, Ivory soap.

It's what she requested, so that's what I'm bringing.

After all the conversations about assisted living, finances, furniture, medical needs, and where she's going to live next, sometimes it's the little things that matter.

Mom wants her soap. Mom gets her soap.

It's a small thing, but it's one more way of showing up.

One Step Forward

I wouldn't describe my relationship with my father as suddenly repaired. There are still plenty of things that need to be worked through.

But for now, we've reached an agreement on how to move forward with Mom's finances.

That's progress.

I've spent considerable time advocating for Mom, researching facilities, touring locations, asking questions, and trying to figure out how to make this next chapter work.

It's been exhausting at times.

There have been days when I've needed to step away, days when I've been frustrated, and days when I wondered whether we'd ever get anywhere.

Now we have an appointment on the calendar.

Next Thursday, we'll take another step.

In the meantime, I'll continue doing what I can, taking care of my own health, keeping up with dialysis, and visiting Mom.

And Saturday, I'll be delivering a very important package.

Ivory soap.

Sometimes moving forward doesn't require a major announcement. Sometimes it's an appointment, an agreement, and a bar of soap.

I'll keep you posted on what happens next.

A Cooler Afternoon with Mom, a Warmer Conversation, and the Ongoing Battle for Boundaries

Today, I'm sitting outside with Mom at the skilled nursing facility. It's about 20 degrees Fahrenheit cooler out here, which makes a huge difference. We're enjoying the fresh air and talking, and I'm doing what I often do: writing as life unfolds around me.

Our conversation has turned to my father, her husband, and what's going on at home.

Sometimes, the conversations you have with your mother aren't just about her recovery or what happens next. They become conversations about the life she's lived, the relationship she's in, and what's missing.

And today, that's where we are.

Another Round with Dad

Last night, my father and I got into it again.

This time, we argued about the outdoor garbage receptacles.

Yes, the garbage cans.

On Thursday, he asked if I had brought the receptacles in from the curb. I answered: Yes, they had been brought in.

Fast-forward to last night.

He asked me the same question again.

My response was straightforward: "I told you yesterday."

He came back with, "I still don't know if they were brought in."

At that point, I gave him my final answer on the subject:

"You can get up and look."

Apparently, that wasn't the response he wanted.

He then told me we needed to be civil.

My response?

"How am I not being civil?"

I'm not refusing to be civil. I'm refusing to be a servant.

There's a difference.

I'm setting boundaries, and apparently, those boundaries aren't sitting well with him.

Show My Belly? No, Just Do the Right Thing.

The conversation continued.

My father asked what he should do. Did I want him to "show his belly"?

For anyone unfamiliar with that expression, he was referring to making himself submissive to me.

My answer was simple.

"No, I want you to do the right thing and give Mom the money she earned."

That's what this is about.

My mother has spent decades working and earning money. I have Power of Attorney over her assets to help manage her finances and arrange for her care. Yet my father has voluntarily declined to share information about her employer's 401(k).

Meanwhile, I'm touring assisted living facilities, trying to figure out what Mom's next chapter might look like and how to pay for it.

This isn't about me wanting control over my father.

It's about making sure Mom's resources can be identified and used appropriately for her care.

I don't need him to be submissive to me. I need him to cooperate in doing what's right for Mom.

Those are two very different things.

Meanwhile, Back at the House...

There's another part of this situation that I can't ignore.

While all this is happening, the clutter at home keeps growing.

I'm talking about junk food, boxes, papers, old medication, and other things creeping into spaces where they don't belong.

It's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

I'm starting to wonder whether my father is developing hoarding behaviors. I can't diagnose him, and I don't know what's driving the accumulation, but from where I'm standing, the situation is getting out of control.

Things seem to be spreading everywhere.

And before anyone points fingers, let me acknowledge something: I don't live in the tidiest room myself. I'm not going to pretend my personal space belongs in a home organization magazine.

There's a difference, though, between having a messy room and watching clutter accumulate throughout the living space until it becomes a growing concern.

I'm not claiming to have a perfectly organized home. I'm saying that what I'm seeing is becoming a problem.

I'm planning to take some pictures to share in a future post. I want people to understand what I'm talking about, not just read my description and imagine something different.

I'll be mindful to protect personal information in any pictures I share, especially if medication labels or other private details are visible.

The clutter is another layer of stress in an already difficult situation.

I'm trying to help Mom transition to a more suitable living arrangement while navigating a strained relationship with my father. Meanwhile, the house where we both live is becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.

It's a lot.

Sitting Outside with Mom

And that brings me back to where I am today.

I'm outside with Mom, enjoying the cooler weather and talking.

She's telling me about other people at the facility.

She's noticed couples who are working together in therapy. She's seen partners visiting their loved ones. She's watching people show up for one another during a difficult chapter of life.

And I can't help but notice the contrast she's describing.

Her husband hasn't been showing up for her in that way.

At least, that's how she's experiencing it.

He's not there working alongside her in therapy. He's not visiting her or spending time with her the way she sees other partners do for their loved ones.

Instead, I'm the one making the visits, asking questions, touring facilities, and trying to figure out the next steps.

I'm not looking for a medal. I'm her son.

But I can understand why seeing those other couples might bring up some difficult feelings for her.

When recovering from a serious medical event, notice who's there for you. You notice who makes the effort. You notice the people who sit beside you, encourage you, and help you get through the day.

And sometimes, you notice who's missing.

I don't know everything that's happened throughout their 56 years of marriage. I'm not going to pretend that I do.

But I can see what's happening now, and I can hear what Mom has to say.

Boundaries Aren't the Same as Being Uncivil

My father and I are clearly not on the same page.

He wants us to be civil.

I want us to do what's necessary to help Mom.

Those goals shouldn't be incompatible.

We can disagree without being disrespectful. We can have difficult conversations without turning every question into a power struggle. We can work together on practical matters without one person expecting the other to be at their beck and call.

And we can discuss Mom's finances without turning the conversation into a debate about who is submitting to whom.

I'm not asking my father to show his belly.

I'm asking him to help resolve the financial questions standing between Mom and the care she wants.

I'm also trying to establish boundaries around what I'm willing to do, how I'm willing to be treated, and how much energy I can devote to these ongoing conflicts.

I have dialysis. I have my own health to manage. I have recovery meetings, responsibilities, and a life outside the skilled nursing facility.

I cannot spend every day fighting battles that cooperation could resolve.

And I don't want to.

What Happens Next?

For now, I'll keep moving forward.

I'll continue exploring assisted living options for Mom. I'll continue trying to understand her financial resources. I'll continue visiting her and listening to what she has to say.

And I'll continue setting boundaries when conversations with my father become unproductive.

The situation at home is another concern I'll have to address, especially as the clutter continues to spread.

I don't have all the answers.

I don't know how this will ultimately play out.

But sitting outside with Mom today, listening to her talk about the couples she sees working together, has given me something to think about.

Sometimes, support isn't complicated.

It's showing up.

It's sitting beside someone.

It's helping them take the next step, even when that step is difficult.

And sometimes, it's doing the work that needs to be done without expecting applause.

That's what I'm trying to do for Mom.

As for the garbage cans, I think we've established that my father can check them himself.

I'm her son, not his servant.

Touring The Bridge: A Smaller Community and an Unexpected Cookie Inheritance

Today started with taking a car in for routine service, followed by a stop at Sam’s Club, and then another assisted living tour for Mom.

This time, I visited The Bridge in North Charleston.

It’s a smaller community with 65 residents, arranged in a square around an open courtyard. I liked the layout, and my overall impression was more positive than at The Palms.

The hallways were wide, the dining area felt intimate, and the residences seemed well laid out. They weren’t too big, but they had plenty of storage.

After a stop at Sam’s Club, I was especially prepared to appreciate storage. Buying in bulk can make a person look at cabinets differently.

As I walked through, I tried to picture Mom settling into one of the rooms. Where would her things go? Would the space feel comfortable? Could I imagine her heading to a meal and recognizing the people around her?

The smaller community appealed to me. I could picture her getting familiar with the place and finding her people over time.

The location also comes with some recognizable landmarks: Waffle House, Zaxby’s, and Trident Hospital.

I know Trident from having a stent put in and undergoing my retinal surgery involving a silicone bubble. So I’m already familiar with the area, although I would welcome future trips with fewer procedures and more time visiting Mom.

The Bridge is farther from home than the other places I’ve toured. That’s something to consider, especially since I’ll probably make most of the trips while Mom gets settled.

Fortunately, I like to drive.

If she ends up there, I expect I’ll be going back and forth while she develops a routine and gets to know people. I want her to have support during that adjustment, while also having the opportunity to build a life in the community.

And yes, I brought food.

At this point, leaving an assisted living tour without a to-go box would feel like skipping part of the inspection.

I took two lunches: collard greens, Brussels sprouts, mac and cheese, and a chicken thigh.

I’m generally not a dark-meat person. The chicken thigh was okay. The rest was great.

The vegetables had made a much better impression on me this time. After my recent disagreement with peas, I was glad to restore diplomatic relations with the side dishes.

I also received two bags of cookies.

Mom doesn’t want hers.

I respect her right to decide what to do with her own food, especially when those decisions create an unexpected cookie inheritance.

The food matters, of course, but I also left thinking about the size of the community, the dining area, and how well the rooms used their space. I liked a lot about this visit.

I’m still comparing options. A good first impression gives me something to work with, and I want to keep considering what would suit Mom’s needs and preferences over time.

I have at least one more community to tour in a few weeks.

For now, The Bridge gave me another option I feel good about exploring—and more to share with Mom and the family as we work through this together.

Today’s errands covered car maintenance, bulk shopping, assisted living, and lunch.

The cookies were an unplanned development. I’m handling it.

Touring The Palms: Nice Grounds, Friendly People, and Unfortunately, Peas

After dialysis today, I toured The Palms as I continue looking at assisted living options for Mom.

Dialysis followed by a facility tour makes for a full day, but I’m learning something useful at each stop. Seeing these places in person gives me a better sense of what daily life might look like for her—and what the differences are beyond the monthly price.

The Palms is in a building that’s about 50 years old and is being renovated. I learned the HVAC system was recently updated and needed adjustments to work properly.

I appreciate hearing about those details. Renovations are part of the picture, and I want to understand both what’s already been done and what’s still being worked on.

Compared with Somerby, The Palms didn’t feel as open and airy to me. It has a different atmosphere, and I noticed that as I walked through the common areas and rooms.

But I also noticed friendly staff and people who seemed happy.

That was only my impression during one visit, but it matters to me. I’m trying to imagine Mom living somewhere, spending time with people, asking for help, and finding a routine. A place's feel includes the people in it.

The grounds were another positive. There were trees, shaded paths, and places to sit outside. After recently spending time outdoors with Mom at the skilled nursing facility, I could appreciate having pleasant outdoor space available.

Then came the food.

You knew I was getting there.

In my opinion, the meal wasn’t as good as what I brought back from Somerby. And there were peas mixed with the corn and carrots.

Peas.

The corn and carrots had been doing perfectly well without that kind of interference.

I understand some people enjoy peas. I respect their right to be wrong at lunch.

My personal vegetable grievances aside, food is still an important part of this search. Mom has made her opinions about facility meals very clear, and I want to pay attention to what she might actually enjoy eating.

One meal gives me a sample, and this sample didn’t impress me as much as Somerby’s did.

The Palms does have another meaningful difference: it costs less per month.

That deserves consideration. These are substantial ongoing expenses, and I’m trying to weigh the cost alongside the setting, the people, the food, and how well a place could meet Mom’s needs.

So my impression today was mixed, with some real positives. The building is older and undergoing updates. The interior felt less open than Somerby. I preferred Somerby’s food. But the staff was friendly, the people I saw seemed happy, the grounds were nice, and the monthly cost was lower.

I’m glad I went.

I’ve also been sharing my thoughts with my brothers and their wives, and posting pictures in a shared Google Drive so everyone can see what I’m seeing. I want them included as we think through the options for Mom. The photos give us something concrete to discuss, and their perspectives help me consider things I might have missed. My opinion of peas, however, is already firmly established.

Each tour is helping me figure out which questions to ask and which details I want to bring back to Mom. I want her involved in thinking about where she could feel comfortable and what matters most to her.

Tomorrow, I tour another place.

I’ll keep asking questions, looking around, and tasting the food.

And quietly hoping the vegetables have made better decisions.

My First Assisted Living Tour—and a Mom-Approved Dinner

Today was a full day.

I started with a 10:15 a.m. cardiology appointment and left with some action items of my own. Taking care of Mom doesn’t take my health off the calendar.

Then I went to an afternoon recovery meeting before heading to Somerby in Mount Pleasant for my first assisted living tour.

I’ve been scheduling these visits, thinking through questions, and trying to understand what the next step could look like for Mom. Today, I got to walk through a place and start putting that information into context.

There was a lot to take in.

We discussed what Mom would need to qualify for assisted living, what’s included in the residence, activities, security, and more. I’m learning how much there is to understand beyond whether a room looks nice.

I want to know how the place would work for her day-to-day. What would she have access to? What could she participate in? Would it feel like somewhere she could settle in and enjoy herself?

I saw lounges, dining and activity spaces, coffee areas, and outdoor spaces. Walking through helped me picture where Mom might spend time beyond her own room.

I also asked whether I could take pictures and made a point of saying I wouldn’t include residents. This is their home. I wanted to document the spaces while respecting the privacy of the people living there.

Then came the part of the tour I had been particularly interested in.

The food.

If you’ve been following along, you know I’ve been requesting tastings. Choosing somewhere Mom might eat every day deserves a little investigation. A brochure can describe dinner beautifully, but Mom has never eaten a brochure.

I left with two to-go boxes.

One had a fish combination with shrimp and flounder, a baked potato, and sautéed green beans. The other had a shrimp quesadilla. There were also two green salads, tartar sauce, fruit salad, and two peach cake desserts.

I had arrived for information and left carrying dinner. This is a meeting format I can support.

Of course, my opinion was only part of the process. The food needed to make it to Mom.

And it was Mom-approved.

If you're following her recent reviews of hospital and facility meals, you know this is meaningful news. We have encountered wraps that did not survive the review process.

This meal got her approval. I was glad to bring her something she enjoyed—and to have her take part in this step toward a possible next home.

One tour and one meal are a beginning. I still have information to work through and more to learn about what will fit her needs.

But I left this first visit with a clearer understanding of assisted living, a lot to think about, and something concrete to share with Mom.

After a day of my own medical responsibilities, recovery, and planning for her care, it felt good to have a simple, positive moment.

Mom liked dinner.

I’ll take that win—with a side of peach cake.