It Started With a Phone Call

Leaving work on a sunny and cool northern California day in early December 2007, I see my mom, Mary Jo, is calling so I pull over to take the call.  It’s about my 86-year old Aunt Fern who it seems has been admitted to the hospital multiple times due to frequent calls to the police about people stealing things from her house.  The social services case worker has informed my mom that we may want to come and see what’s going on.  My 82-year old mom isn’t sure what to do about that and is calling me for advice.  I’m 49 at the time.  Like every good middle child, I call in my oldest sister, Alta, and brother, Dan, using the 3-way call feature to share the news and help determine how best to proceed.  My younger brother, David, was living with my mom and did his best to keep her calm while we figure out the best approach.

My aunt never had children and was a widow of about 14 years when I got this call.  All I could think about was the fact that she was alone.  I didn’t spend much time with her as I was growing up and certainly not in my adulthood, but I had enough fond memories of her and her husband, Uncle Joe, that I always reached out to visit when I was in St. Louis for business.  That evening it was decided that my mom, Alta and Dan would all take a trip out to “visit” Fern in St. Louis.  I waited for the report from my home in California and David held down the fort at my mom’s house in Aurora, Colorado.

The verdict wasn’t good.  They said she was routinely calling the police several times a week and the word “dementia” was brought up several times. The guidance was that she needed to be with others who could help look out for her.  A case worker talked with my mom, Alta and Dan and it quickly became clear that they needed to help put things in order.  They visited the lawyer for Power of Attorney legal documents; met my aunt’s Financial Wealth Manager to get clear about her financial situation, and then there was the bank and adding themselves to her bank accounts.  Fern willingly allowed them to navigate the system to get things in order and her sense of relief at the support they provided was clear.  She was alone and wanted to be with family.  They all agreed the best things would be for Fern to move to Colorado and live with my mom.  They both effused how they wanted to be together until the end of their days and the solution seemed logical at the time.

That was the easy part.  The hard part was what was to come.  The family debrief of the visit covered all the facts and we discussed the logistics of moving her to Colorado with my mom.  As we discussed what was needed, it became clear that I was the best one to handle the logistics and manage the move.  My sister’s husband had advanced Parkinson’s so she couldn’t leave him and she already had a full plate.  My brother Dan was a musician who couldn’t afford to be gone any longer from his work.  My brother David was helping our mom get ready to receive my aunt.  The only logical conclusion was me.  I had my husband Guido’s support, time off from work and a strong project management background.  At the end of December in 2007, I set into motion the first step of my Alzheimer’s journey with “the girls”.