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.

When Helping Mom Means Setting a Boundary

This afternoon, I got frustrated with Mom.

Really frustrated.

It was lunchtime at the skilled nursing facility, which meant it was also time for one of Mom's favorite activities whenever she's in an institutional setting:

Complaining about the food.

Her favorite word seems to be “terrible.”

She uses it a lot.

More than a lot.

Today, though, the frustration wasn't just about whether lunch deserved another terrible review.

While Mom ate, I stood in the hallway when one of the CNAs approached me. She brought up several concerns.

Mom isn't eating enough. She wants to go to sleep immediately after eating, even though she's been told she needs to remain upright for at least 30 minutes. Her stomach hasn't really settled since her second stroke. She's also frustrated because she says it sometimes takes too long for someone to respond after she pushes the call button.

There may have been a few other things mentioned that I'm forgetting.

I understand the complaints individually.

Put them all together, though, and I started getting frustrated.

What Does Mom Actually Want?

We've talked about this before.

Mom doesn't want to go home. She wants to leave skilled nursing and eventually move into an assisted living facility.

I'm touring two assisted living facilities this week to help make that happen.

But I explained something to her again today: moving to another facility won’t necessarily solve everything she doesn't like about this one.

There will still be other residents.

Staff will still care for multiple people.

There will still be menus she doesn't control.

There will still be times when she pushes a call button, and someone doesn't magically materialize next to her bed.

That's part of the compromise that comes with choosing a facility over living at home.

At home, she could have significantly more control over what she eats, when she eats, when she goes to bed, and many of the other things she's frustrated about now.

She doesn't want that option.

I respect that.

But choosing another option means accepting compromises.

And that's where we weren't getting anywhere today.

I'm Not Going to Chase the Impossible

I finally told Mom something that may have sounded harsh.

I'm not going to put in all the work required to find another facility, arrange everything, deal with the finances, move her, and get her settled somewhere else if we're going to repeat the same cycle.

New building.

New room.

New staff.

New food.

Same word:

“Terrible.”

I'm willing to help her find a place where she's safe, comfortable, and treated well.

I'm willing to tour facilities.

I'm willing to ask questions.

I'm willing to work through the financial issues.

I'm willing to help her get where she says she wants to go.

I can’t guarantee she’ll like everything.

No facility can do that.

I Had to Remove Myself

Eventually, I realized the conversation wasn't accomplishing anything.

I was frustrated.

She wasn't changing her position.

I wasn't changing mine.

Continuing the conversation would only make both of us more upset.

So I told her that I needed to remove myself from the situation.

That's a boundary I need right now.

There is a difference between helping someone and taking responsibility for making them happy.

I can help Mom.

I can't manufacture happiness for her.

And I can't keep running from facility to facility looking for a place where absolutely everything will be exactly the way she wants it.

Then There's the Money

There's another practical reality.

Assisted living costs money.

Potentially a lot of money.

If Mom is going to be unhappy regardless of where she lives, I have to ask a difficult question:

Why spend a significant amount of her money changing locations if the result will be the same dissatisfaction?

That's where my mind went today.

If she's going to be unhappy in assisted living and unhappy at home, then financially, being unhappy at home is considerably less expensive.

That doesn't mean I've decided she needs to go home.

It doesn't mean I'm abandoning the search.

I'm still touring the facilities this week.

But I am starting to recognize that finding Mom a new place to live and finding Mom a place where she'll never complain are two completely different assignments.

I can work on the first one.

The second one isn't mine.

Today, I needed to remind myself of that—and walk away before frustration took over the conversation.

Tomorrow is another day.

And apparently, somewhere out there, I still need to find a facility whose food doesn't earn the word “terrible.”

Wish me luck.

When Caring for Mom Becomes a Battle of Wills

When I'm sitting here writing posts for the blog, I often keep the Facebook Reels open in the background. Sometimes it's entertainment. Sometimes it's noise. And every once in a while, I come across something that hits surprisingly close to home.

Tonight, it was this Reel:

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1Gg6CPpZ9D/

As I watched it, I thought, I'm experiencing something similar.

I've written before about my mother and her time in a skilled nursing facility. I've also mentioned that she wants to move into an assisted living facility.

After 56 years, she's had enough and wants some time away.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about a different kind of change in my own life. My plan is what I call 6+6 — part of the year in the United States and part of the year in Thailand.

But before any of that happens, there are much more immediate decisions to make.

Assisted Living Isn't Free

Assisted living facilities cost money.

A bunch of money, I anticipate.

This week, I'm touring two assisted living facilities. I want to see what's available, understand what they provide, ask questions, and, of course, find out what everything actually costs.

Then comes the question of how to pay.

That's where things get complicated.

I have Power of Attorney over my mother's assets, which allows me to handle her financial matters and use her assets to pay for her care.

There's one problem.

My father has voluntarily declined to provide me with information about my mother's employer 401(k).

And that has created what may become a battle of wills.

Living Under the Same Roof Without Talking

I haven't spoken to my father in more than a week. It might be closer to a week and a half now.

Here's what makes the situation even stranger:

I still live in the house my parents both own.

My room is on the second floor.

Yet I haven't spent much time at home lately.

There has been dialysis. There have been visits with Mom. There have been recovery meetings. And I've been trying to find some fun somewhere in between it all.

Today was the exception.

Today, as I wrote in another post, my body essentially told me that I wasn't getting out of bed.

So I didn't.

I spent the day upstairs.

There is something sad about being in the same house as someone and having that much distance between us.

The Last Holdout

The entire situation is sad.

From my perspective, my father has gradually alienated the nuclear family.

For a long time, I was the last holdout.

I kept trying.

Now I'm reaching a point where my primary concern isn't winning an argument or proving who is right.

It's figuring out what happens next for Mom.

She has said what she wants.

I have two assisted living facilities to tour this week.

I need to understand the costs.

I need to understand the resources available to pay those costs.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this is a 401(k) that I still don't have information about.

So that's where this story stands tonight.

Mom wants assisted living.

I'm preparing to tour the facilities.

I'm thinking about my own eventual 6+6 life between the United States and Thailand.

My father and I aren't speaking.

And we're still living under the same roof.

Families can be complicated.

Money can make them even more complicated.

Add aging parents, caregiving, decades of marriage, Power of Attorney, retirement accounts, and decisions about where someone wants to live, and suddenly life starts producing storylines that even the Facebook Reels would have trouble making up.

Follow along to find out what happens next.

I have a feeling this chapter isn't finished.

Some Days Moving Forward Means Staying Still

In a previous post, I wrote about visiting my mother in the skilled nursing facility—spending time with her, seeing what her days are like there, and trying to navigate everything that comes with figuring out what happens next.

Today, I was supposed to visit again.

My body had other plans.

Today my body said, “I'm not getting out of bed.”

And I listened.

I didn't finally get out of bed until about 5:30 p.m. Eastern Time.

I was awake earlier in the day, and once I realized I wasn't going to make it, I messaged the family group text. I let everyone know I wouldn't be there and asked if the brother who was in the area could let Mom know.

They were there hanging out with her, so she wasn't alone.

Still, I felt like I was missing something.

I didn't get to hear from Donna Woods today—or try to keep up with Donna Woods. That's become part of these visits, too. There are the people I originally go there to see, and then there are the people I meet along the way who somehow become part of the story.

And that little community around Mom may be changing this week.

Her current roommate, Jenny, might be leaving tomorrow. If she does, Mom may be getting a new roommate.

Donna Woods may be leaving on Tuesday.

It's strange how quickly these temporary communities form. People enter a skilled nursing facility because something happened in their lives. They become roommates. They sit in the same hallways. They eat meals together. Families begin recognizing one another. Personalities emerge. Stories get shared.

Then someone gets better.

Someone moves.

Someone goes home.

Someone new arrives.

And the little world rearranges itself again.

Maybe that's part of what I've been watching while visiting Mom: life continuing to move even when, from the outside, it can look like everyone is standing still.

Today, I was the one standing still.

I always feel some guilt when I don't make it to see Mom. I want to show up. I want to be involved. I want to keep things moving forward.

But sometimes my body gets a vote, too.

Today it apparently had veto power.

So I stayed in bed.

Tomorrow begins another week, and it's time to push ahead again.

On Tuesday, I'm touring an assisted living facility as we continue exploring what the next chapter might look like for Mom.

The timing feels especially interesting now.

Jenny may be leaving.

Donna Woods may be leaving.

Mom may have a new roommate.

And I'm going to walk through a completely different place and try to imagine whether it could eventually become Mom's next home.

I’m not sure this facility is the right one. I don't know what Tuesday will bring. There are still questions to ask, things to see, decisions to make, and probably a few surprises nobody has thought about yet.

But that's where things are today.

Yesterday's plans change.

Roommates come and go.

People recover and move on.

Some days I visit Mom.

Some days my body tells me I'm staying in bed until 5:30 p.m.

And then another week begins.

So I get up, push ahead, and take the next step.