The Hinge Experiment: A Weekend Without Airica, Godzilla, and a Little Family Time 🦖❤️
After getting back from the cruise, I made a point of seeing Airica on Monday. I knew she had a trip coming up this weekend to take care of some family matters, so I wanted to squeeze in a little time together before she headed out.
And yes, I'll miss her.
It's funny how quickly certain routines can become something you look forward to. The conversations, the meals, the laughs, the hugs, and even those drives back and forth to Columbia have become part of my schedule.
This weekend will be different.
No trip to Columbia. No dinner plans with Airica. No wondering what adventure we'll get ourselves into next.
But that's okay. Life happens, family comes first, and sometimes schedules don't line up. We'll have another opportunity to spend time together soon.
In the meantime, I have a few things to keep me occupied.
Mom, Family, and a Little Change of Pace
I'll have some time to spend with Mom this weekend, which is always important to me.
Between visiting her, my schedule, dialysis, and everything else life throws my way, it's nice to have a chance to slow down a little and spend time with family.
Well, maybe not slow down completely.
I have another plan.
Godzilla, Popcorn, and a Trip to Beaufort!
One thing I really enjoy is going to the movies.
This Saturday, I've planned a trip to Beaufort, South Carolina, with my nephew. We're going to see Godzilla Minus One, which is showing this weekend.
Now, my nephew enjoys Godzilla movies. So rather than picking something I might want to see, I'm going to let him choose the entertainment.
That's what uncles do, right?
I’ll head to Beaufort for the 3:30 p.m. showing.
My movie-theater requirements are pretty straightforward:
A comfortable seat.
A large popcorn.
Probably a Pepsi Zero.
A good movie.
My nephew will get some water and something to eat, and I'll settle in for the show.
There's just one little detail.
I'll be reading subtitles.
Godzilla Minus One is a Japanese-language film, so I'll be doing a little extra reading while watching giant-monster destruction unfold on the big screen.
Multitasking!
I don't mind subtitles. In fact, some of the movies I've enjoyed over the years have required me to pay attention to what's happening at the bottom of the screen.
I'm looking forward to seeing what my nephew thinks of the movie, too. Sometimes it's just as much fun watching someone else enjoy something they're passionate about as it is enjoying the movie yourself.
And who knows? Maybe Godzilla will destroy a few buildings, cause a little chaos, and give us something to talk about on the drive home.
Sounds like a perfectly reasonable Saturday afternoon.
The Hinge Experiment Isn't Taking a Vacation
While Airica is away this weekend, we'll both be doing our own things.
I'm not going to pretend I won't miss seeing her. I will.
But one thing I'm learning through this experience is that getting to know someone also means understanding that you each have your own lives, responsibilities, families, and commitments.
We don't have to be doing everything together.
We can enjoy the time we spend together and still make room for everything else that's important.
And there's already something on the calendar for the following weekend.
Next Weekend: TSA PreCheck!
When I see Airica again next weekend, we'll work on getting her TSA PreCheck.
After all the traveling, airport experiences, and upcoming adventures, it makes sense to take care of that.
If we're going to continue exploring, taking trips, and making memories, anything that makes the airport experience a little easier is worth looking into.
I'll help her navigate the process, and hopefully, we'll get everything squared away.
Maybe this will be another opportunity for me to demonstrate my extensive knowledge of travel logistics.
Or maybe I'll just be the guy sitting there saying, "Click that button."
Either way, we'll figure it out.
Sometimes You Just Enjoy the Moment
When I started The Hinge Experiment, I had no idea where it would lead.
I certainly didn't anticipate all the road trips, dinners, family introductions, pumpkin patches, Harry Potter adventures, and cruise-related travel planning.
And I don't know what comes next.
For now, I'm enjoying getting to know Airica, appreciating the time we spend together, and looking forward to the next opportunity to see her.
This weekend will be a little different, and I'll miss her company.
But I'll get some time with Mom, take my nephew to see Godzilla, enjoy some popcorn, and have a little uncle-nephew time.
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.
And next weekend, the Hinge Experiment resumes with TSA PreCheck and another opportunity to make memories.
In the meantime, somebody might want to remind Godzilla to stay away from Beaufort.
I've got a movie to watch! 😂
A Bittersweet Trip to the Eye Doctor
I’m sitting at the eye doctor’s office today—not for myself, but for my dad. He has a regularly scheduled appointment to help manage the macular degeneration in both eyes.
I drove him in his car. He can’t get into mine, a BMW X6, so he bought a Chevrolet Blazer. I’m happy to take him. He’s driven me to plenty of appointments over the years.
But today feels bittersweet.
Dad got ready on his own. He got dressed, made it down the stairs, climbed into the car, buckled his seat belt, got out at the office, and walked inside. It was good to see him manage something important to him.
And it left me thinking about what else seems important. Seeing the TV and scrolling on his phone appear to matter. But he hasn’t seen his wife since around the end of August.
He made one attempt. I didn’t take him, and I own that. But there hasn’t been another attempt since. He says he’s in too much pain to go.
Today, he made it to this appointment.
I’m not saying his pain isn’t real. I’m sitting with the contradiction, and with the sadness of watching him make the effort for one thing while the distance from his wife continues. I can’t make that choice for him.
The Appointment, the Doom Scroll, and One Good Foot
I went to the podiatrist today. My foot is fine, and somehow I didn't have a copay. So I have to ask: why does seeing a doctor for one foot cost a full copay, but apparently seeing a doctor for both feet costs nothing? The healthcare system remains a mystery—at least my toes are doing well.
My father had asked me several times to make an appointment for him while I was booking mine. So I did. After the recent malay with my mom, and after he used my “deficiency” against me, I still helped. I told him the appointment time, and the doctor texted him a reminder.
When it was time to leave, he was still in his chair, doomscrolling amid the boxes, papers, and other stuff that had gathered around the place he hardly gets up from.
As I was heading out, he asked, “Did you get my message?”
“No,” I said.
“I canceled the appointment.”
“As long as you called them.”
I’m not playing messenger.
This has become a pattern. He asks for help setting up an appointment or task, then cancels when the time comes because he’s “not feeling well.” Maybe there’s more going on—perhaps even agoraphobia. But whatever the reason, the result is the same: plans get made, plans get dropped, and I’m left rearranging my day around them.
It happened with a necessary trip to Verizon to fix his cellphone. We finally went about six months after he first asked. It happened with an in-person bank deposit, at least two months after he asked me to help. There have been other examples.
I don’t mind driving him. He isn’t in shape to drive himself, and I like being behind the wheel. Honestly, the world is probably safer with him off the road.
What I do mind is changing my own plans to help—like moving a pain appointment I’d arranged for that morning in Downtown Charleston—only for him to cancel at the last minute without telling me directly.
That’s not cool.
So, lesson learned: I’m happy to drive when there’s a real plan, and he’s ready to go. But I’m not rearranging my day around appointments he may cancel from his chair.
At least one of us made it to the podiatrist. And one of us left with a good foot and no copay.
The Power of Attorney Is Signed: Welcome to My Real-Life Version of The Traitors
Well, we have an update.
If you read my previous post about caring for my mother, money, control, and family boundaries, you know we’ve had some difficult conversations about what happens next.
My mother has made her wishes known. I’ve been working on making sure those wishes are heard and respected.
Now, there’s a new development:
I have a signed South Carolina Power of Attorney.
Yep.
The paperwork is signed.
The next step?
I need to give my father a copy.
And then we see what happens.
Previously, on NielFlamm.com...
In the last episode, my father and I had some very different views about my mother's money and how it should be used for her care.
When I asked about accessing information concerning money she had earned and saved, I heard:
“I’ll think about it.”
Later, I heard:
“Prove it.”
Well, I didn't exactly set out to turn this into a cliffhanger, but here we are.
The Power of Attorney is signed.
Now comes the part where I hand him a copy.
Cue dramatic music.
This Isn't 90 Day Fiancé
I've been trying to figure out exactly what kind of reality show my life has become.
It's definitely not 90 Day Fiancé.
Nobody is getting a rose, so The Bachelor is out.
I'm thinking we're getting closer to a real-life version of The Traitors.
We've got family.
We've got money.
We've got disagreements.
We've got questions about who controls what.
We've got people wondering what someone else will do next.
And we've got me standing in the middle of it thinking:
How did I get cast in this show?
Unfortunately, unlike reality television, nobody yells “CUT!” and sends everyone back to their trailers.
This is real life.
What Happens Next?
That's the interesting part.
I don't know.
I'm going to give my father Power of Attorney and see what happens next.
Maybe the document changes the conversation.
Maybe it doesn't.
Let’s move forward with figuring out my mother's finances and how her resources can support the care she wants.
Maybe we're headed for another episode.
Whatever happens, my objective remains the same: listen to my mother and advocate for what she wants.
The Power of Attorney isn't the finish line. It's another step in a much bigger process.
Stay Tuned
So that's today's update.
South Carolina Power of Attorney: signed.
Copy for Dad: next.
Dad's reaction: TBD.
And apparently, that's my teaser for the next episode.
Keep coming back to NielFlamm.com/blog because I have a feeling this story isn't finished.
Forget 90 Day Fiancé.
Forget The Bachelor.
Welcome to my real-life version of The Traitors.
Except there's no cash prize at the end.
Just family, paperwork, boundaries, and hopefully doing what's best for Mom.
Stay tuned.
Caring for My Mother: Money, Control, and Family Boundaries
There is another side to the story I shared about visiting my mother. If I’m going to be transparent about the coffee, the conversations, and the importance of showing up, I need to be honest about the harder part, too.
My mother is in a skilled nursing facility after two strokes in three months. She wants to move into assisted living. Eventually, when she’s mobile enough, the plan is to get her to Thailand.
She has also made something else clear: she does not want to return to Rivertowne to live with her husband, my father.
That is a difficult sentence to write. It is also necessary to understand what’s happening.
The Cost of Care
Assisted living is expensive. The places I’m looking at start around $6,000 a month for somewhere “nice.” We are not talking about the Four Seasons. At that price, though, I wouldn’t mind a mint on the pillow.
When my mother was in the hospital and expressed that she didn’t want to return home, my father’s first response was:
“Who is going to pay for it?”
I understand that hearing your spouse doesn’t want to live with you can hurt. I’m divorced. I received my own invitation to leave the home, and I left. I didn’t return. I understand that conversation carries feelings.
But my mother still needs care. Her wishes still deserve to be heard.
During a trip to Costco, before all of this, my mother told me she had a 401(k) through her employer. She gave me a rough idea of the balance during a conversation about things involving my father that were upsetting her.
Apparently, a Costco trip can include bulk groceries and information that becomes very important later.
When my father balked at assisted living, I remembered that account. My mother had worked and saved money over time. I wanted to explore using those savings for her care.
I asked him for the information to start that process.
His response was:
“I’ll think about it.”
Money and Control
I’ve heard stories about families coming apart over money. About a parent needing care and the conversations turning into arguments over accounts, expenses, and who gets to decide.
Now I’m experiencing that family strife myself.
From where I stand, this is all about money and control.
My mother has expressed where she wants to live and what she wants her next chapter to look like. Yet my conversations with my father keep coming back to whether money will be made available and who gets the final say.
When I hear “I’ll think about it” in response to a request for information about her savings, I hear him positioning himself as the person who decides whether her wishes can move forward.
That is why this feels like more than a disagreement about an expensive facility. Access to money affects my mother’s choices. Whoever controls that access has enormous influence over where she can go and how she can live.
I understand that $6,000 a month requires planning. I’m willing to work through the costs, the account details, and the practical questions.
What I’m struggling with is having to argue for taking my mother’s wishes seriously in the first place.
Taking Responsibility for Her Wishes
As of today, I am officially my mother’s power of attorney. I am also her designated proxy.
I let my younger brothers know my intentions because I wanted them informed. They know the plan: assisted living, then Thailand when Mom is mobile enough.
I want my mother’s wishes to guide the decisions about her care. There are details to work through, but I don’t want her voice getting lost in arguments about money or what someone else prefers.
Yesterday, my father began what I experienced as a negotiation over her care.
I told him I didn’t see this as a negotiation. I was talking about money my mother had earned and saved, and using it to care for her.
His response was:
“Prove it.”
Those two words changed how I saw him.
I was trying to move a conversation about my mother’s care forward. Instead, I felt pulled into a contest over authority and control.
My mother is recovering from two strokes. She has enough work ahead of her without her wishes becoming another thing she has to fight for.
What This Has Brought Up for Me
In that moment, I lost respect for my father.
I can acknowledge that he helped give me life, taught me things, and supported me at different points. Those parts of our history exist.
So does the pain I carry from childhood into adulthood. This crisis has brought some of that pain back to the surface. His responses now are affecting a relationship that already has a complicated history.
Hearing “I’ll think about it,” followed by “prove it,” while trying to help my mother get the care she wants has left me angry, hurt, and deeply disappointed.
I have been passionate in these conversations. My mother’s care and happiness matter to me, and I haven’t had many quiet feelings about either.
I also still live in the house my parents co-own. I go back there after visiting my mother, attending recovery meetings, going to dialysis, watching a movie, and doing the other things that make up my life.
My routine hasn’t changed much.
My connection with my father has.
Since hearing “I’ll think about it,” I’ve had less to say. I’ve been less engaged. I’m trying to live in that space while being honest about what I feel and what I can give.
I Still Believe in Showing Up
I meant what I wrote in my earlier post.
I believe in visiting people in hospitals and skilled nursing facilities. I believe in calling, listening, and making time for people, especially older people who may have fewer opportunities for connection.
I believe God created us to be in community with one another. We need people. We need conversation, care, and the experience of knowing someone remembered us.
I also have limits.
I cannot do all the work of maintaining a relationship. I cannot create mutual care by myself. And I have to be able to sleep at night with the choices I make about who receives my time and energy.
Right now, I am showing up for my mother, listening to what she wants, and working toward her next step. I’m also continuing my recovery, taking care of my health, and figuring out what boundaries I need with my father.
None of that feels particularly tidy.
But it is open and transparent.
I’ve heard how money can divide a family. Experiencing it myself has made me painfully aware of how closely money and control can become connected—and how much damage that can do when someone needs care.
Time is the one resource I know I will never get back. I want to spend mine helping my mother live the life she is asking for, while taking care of the life I’m responsible for, too.
Today, I want my mother to know that I hear her—and that I’m taking her wishes seriously.