Thomas’s individual position statement, written privately with Mediator.ai. See the full example for context.
What’s happening
Mom fell. She’s in rehab. The facility has given us an April 22 discharge date and is asking for a plan. My sister Rachel called me the day of the fall and has been on top of everything since.
I haven’t said it yet, but the last call with the neurologist scared me. “Cognitive decline” is a phrase I’ve heard and filed away as “she’s just getting older.” Hearing it combined with “she can’t live alone” made it land differently.
Where I’m coming from
I moved to Boston seventeen years ago for a job I still have. I have a partner, no kids. I fly out to see Mom twice a year and I talk to her every Sunday. I have sent money every month for the last two years. I know Rachel has deposited it; I don’t know if it gets used or if it just sits there while she absorbs the rest.
I’m not close to my sister. We get along fine on calls. We don’t call each other between Mom things.
What I know I’ve done wrong
I have treated “Rachel’s there” as a fact of the situation instead of a choice she’s making. I’ve been grateful, I’ve said it, and I’ve also let it continue because it was working. I have to stop doing that. This conversation is me stopping it.
What I’m willing to do
- Pay. I make a lot more money than Rachel. I can pay a disproportionate share of whatever professional care Mom needs. If the right plan is a full-time live-in caregiver, I’ll cover the majority of it. If it’s assisted living, same. I’d rather pay than argue about it.
- Come more often, for defined stretches. I can take two weeks, three times a year, to be there in person. I’d rather have three predictable visits I can plan work around than an open-ended promise to “come when needed” that ends up being worse for everyone.
- Own one thing instead of nothing. Whatever care team we hire, I’ll be the person who manages the vendor relationship: billing, replacing caregivers when they quit, liaising with the agency. I can do that from Boston. Rachel shouldn’t be the one on hold with a billing department.
- Talk about Mom moving to Boston seriously, even though I suspect it’s the wrong answer, so that it’s on the table.
What I think is the right answer
I don’t know yet. My gut says: she can’t be alone in her apartment, and my sister can’t be her full-time caregiver. That leaves: live-in caregiver in her apartment, assisted living near Rachel, or assisted living near me. I lean toward the first, because Mom is most herself in her own place, but I want to hear what Rachel thinks without pre-framing it.
What I will not do
- Pretend she’s fine to avoid the cost.
- Move her in with me. I live in a one-bedroom and travel for work, and she doesn’t know anyone in Boston.
- Leave Rachel to plan this alone while I write checks.
What I’m afraid of
- That Rachel is more angry with me than she’s let on, and that nothing I propose now will feel like enough.
- That we’ll pick a plan, and in three months, it won’t be working, and we’ll be having this conversation again from a worse starting point.
- That “cognitive decline” means a window that’s shorter than I’m letting myself believe, and I’ve already wasted some of it.
BATNA
If we can’t agree on a shared plan: I’ll hire a geriatric care manager myself, build a plan based on Mom’s doctor’s recommendations, and pay for whatever professional care it requires. I’d rather not do it this way (Rachel is the one who knows her day-to-day and would be the wiser partner to this decision) but I can and will.