The first year of my nearly daily involvement to help Mom and Dad was horrible. I wanted to help them, but they could not recognize that they needed help. They could see that their spouse was not doing well, but they did not recognize it in themselves. While my Mom would complain about Dad’s memory, they never betrayed each other.
I would try to offer logic and reason, and inevitably, I would leave frustrated, and often in tears.
One day, my mom called to ask me to come over to help with the checkbook. When I arrived, she looked at me like I had grown a second head and berated me for suggesting she needed help with the checkbook. My Dad sat in his armchair watching the entire heated exchange. I felt like a teenager again getting lectured. To examples I gave, my Mom would deny and suggest that I was making it all up. I was so angry and frustrated. How could I have believed my Mom really wanted my help. I left in tears.
That evening around 9:30 PM, there was a knock on my door. My Mom was there with a gift. She told me they were sorry that I was so upset and had been driving for hours. She told me somehow, they ended up in Baltimore, MD. Their home was in Arlington, VA and I lived 15 minutes away in McLean, VA. We hugged and at that moment, I realized that the advice the Psychiatrist gave me to “be sneaky” was the only way I would truly be able to help them.
I had to work even harder to help them without it being noticed. When I visited, I would pick up the piles of mail and stick them in my bag to review later. At that point I started to copy account numbers and information to get a better handle on their finances and cash flow. That pain and anguish lead me to create the MemoryBanc Register and transition to a career as a Daily Money Manager.
Things got easier and eventually, my Mom would thank me for helping take care of the bills and finances. That would be more than two years later and after my Dad passed away.
I would later recognize how much I missed the Mom that would debate me. The dementia stole away my parents bit by bit, even the parts that drove me crazy. They were unable to change, so I learned how to adapt to meet my parents where they were — even when I was trying to do a good deed that would never be recognized. Recalled.
Most American’s are unaware that more than 
I remember when they recommended this drug for my Mom a few years back. She had vascular dementia and was getting very agitated. The staff was having a hard time redirecting my Mom. They thought this medication might help.
The price of this misplaced trust was reported at an annual cost of $36.5 Billion by the National Council on Aging. I shared a few weeks back that
A Financial Adviser shared this saying with me after I reached out to him to help some clients who have dozens of banking and retirement accounts. As a 
My mom was never a joiner. But her personality and interests changed through her dementia. What I have seen over and over is that the longer you wait for the move, the harder it is for your loved ones to adapt to the new community. I was shocked to arrive one afternoon to see my Mom dancing. She always shooed my Dad away when he asked for a dance.
In talking with several families recently, there seems to be a reticence to start benefiting from the Long Term Care insurance they own. Whether it’s the idea to save it ’til later when things get really expensive or that they won’t qualify … I’ve seen it too often recently that I want to encourage you to apply for the benefits now.
I wish I could tell you there was an easy answer to this question. But there isn’t. Just like every dementia is different, every support network is different as is every metropolitan area in terms of costs and options.