Narrating “Musings of the Night Nurse” pieces the day-after they run. Is this photo of my mom with Elton John that fell out of a book I was putting away meant to snap your neck? It is.
A clip from yesterday’s piece, “The Accountants”:
What you do not know when taking over the affairs of a loved one with dementia: the people your loved one has dealt with are fitting you with a jacket they’ve been making, sometimes for decades. Maybe its contours have your mother’s trusting nature. Maybe they count on family members confusing the situation and using this confusion to their advantage. Bill paying services, reverse mortgages, life-alert lanyards, things meant to provide security come with a complementary clarion call: “We’ve got an old one here, we have someone who is susceptible.”
I’ve been told that some people, women especially, feel they have to be nice, to not speak up, to not make waves. I am not one of these women.
I also do I forget to pay bills, including, in January 2023, getting a sweep from my mother’s investments into her checking, in order that I could pay her land taxes. When I checked her banking, to make sure the money had hit, I saw there had been a $25,000 check written, wiping out the account. The check was in three different people’s hands: my mother’s signature, someone writing in her name, another the amount. Aside from my mother’s, I did not recognize any of the handwriting, and the only clue I had as to where it was deposited was a generic banking stamp on the back...
