Example Letter to all the regional banks

2/3/2010

Any regional Bank

Any town

To whom it may concern:

Mr Vulnerable adult, my father, may have  recently opened an account in your bank. 

I think it is important for you to know that “suspicious activity” was recently noted in his banking transactions at Any Bank in Anytown, MN, and account that had to be closed for Mr Vulnerable adults’s protection.  A Dept of Public Safety case has been opened on such activity, Case # 2009-39846.  The special agent police officer on the case is :

XXX XXXX

Alcohol and Gambling Enforcement Division

Minnesota Department of Public Safety

444 Cedar Street, Suite 222

St Paul, MN 55101

www.dps.state.mn.us

MNSCAMS Fraud report line: 1-866-347-0911 (voicemail only)

Should you continue to see suspicious activity on Mr vulnerable adults’s account (wire transfers out, checks for cash), please file Suspicious Activity Report and contact appropriate officials.

Please send me copy of all bank account statements on accounts currently or recently (since 11/09) held by Mr Vulnerable adult. 

Attached is copy of the Power of Attorney document.  The original is recorded in the Any  County courthouse. 

Sincerely,

Me, the daughter

Power of Attorney for Mr Vulnerable adult

Any Street

Any town

https://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/i-am-smarter-than-you.html

gone

I didn't know how we would make it ...............how we would make it through the upcoming months, including the summer, and the months and years to come..... how I would manage to take care of all of the things that needed to be taken care of, and to also take care of you (and keep you happy at the same time)....

And now, suddenly, when we least expected, with so much warning, and yet without any warning, its over, and you are gone.


******************************************************

You have suddenly been set free -- and so have I.

******************************************************

Missing

I look in on the nanny cam and you aren't there.
Oh no.  He has gone to bed before dinner, I think.
I call on the telephone.
No answer.
I call again.
No answer.

I drive to your place. The door is unlocked. I walk into your unit.  The television is on, but you aren't there.

I look everywhere, even behind the bed, even in the closet - on the chance that perhaps you collapsed somewhere.

"Dad, Dad?!  Are you here? Dad! ", I call out.

I look again at the motion detector - I see the images of you leaving at 6:15 - only 30 minutes ago.

Maybe he went to get the mail, I think, as I quickly exit the apartment, heading toward the mailbox.
But, I get there, only to find you are not there.  You are not in the lobby.
I get back on the elevator and head to the 11th floor.  I know there was a party there yesterday that you missed, as you insisted the party was today.  Maybe you were going to the party.
But the 11th floor is quiet, the party room is dark.
I return to your apartment.  You are still not there.

Where could he be, I think to myself.  This has never happened before.

Once again, I decide to hit the hallways.
I go to the exit stairwell and look inside.  You are not there.
I turn around and head back toward the elevators, walking slowly,  AND LISTENING.

I had heard some voices inside one of the units where the TV is often playing loudly.  It almost sounded like a party in there.

Again, I LISTEN.

And, there it is............the familiar sound of your voice, talking.  I move toward the door - Is he in there, I think?
A woman walks by as I try to act nonchalant, knowing I am out of place, standing outside the door of this stranger.

Again, I hear your voice.  Its moving closer, and you open the door.   I say "Oh there you are!  Do you want to come and have some dinner?" (as if it is normal to find you in the apartment of a stranger).

You say, "I couldn't get my TV channel on"

You have the television clicker in your hand.  You had gone to the neighbors seeking help with the TV .
We get back to your apartment and I realize that it is channel 2 playing.  This is not your channel.

************************

I can only now hope that the neighbor wasn't suspicious of the incompetence you displayed, and that he saw it as innocent enough, not worthy of reporting.

what day did they give up?

"tomorrow is Sunday, you know," I say to you.

"Tomorrow is Sunday?", you express with surprise.

"What day did they give up?"

birthday

Happy Birthday - 84 years old.

The special cake plate was your mother's.  It had always been used  when you were a little boy, for cake presentation. That memory still means so much today, as you have told several of us of it, repeatedly, over the years.

The special angel food cake was made by your new favorite girl - Your PCA -  whose name you suddenly remembered today, as you spoke of how kind it was of her to make the cake; as if you have remembered her name all along.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/our-girl.html

"Did you know she's from Canada?", you say to me.

*************************************

I see you studying the birthday cards, each and every one, very carefully, pondering who would have sent a birthday card.

Several are from people you don't know well - and this seems to interest you the most...
-- the one from the lady on the 2nd floor (who is probably the floor representative in the senior condo
-- the one from the Condo association


**************************************

Some ladies apparently showed up at the door, to wish you happy birthday, too.

Who were they?

Presumably ladies from the building, perhaps from the floor.


*********************************

"How old am I going to be?" you used to ask me, as we anticipated this birthday.

Then, once the birthday finally came, you would say, "How old am I now?" And, when I would tell you, I could see there was a certain satisfaction, that you had made it to the mark.  I could see you internally acknowledge the fact, the target.  It was the kind of satisfaction, that in retrospect, now that we know you would die one month later, also said "I am satisfied with where I have gotten, and I don't need anymore".

As numbers would mean things to you, February 13, 1931 date of Birth.  March 14, 2015 date of death.  You would like the way those numbers played out.

the sweater and other clothing tales

You are wearing a red sweater over your shirt today.  Its a very plain burgandy red sweater, I would say it is unisex in appearance.

"She brought me this sweater and told me to put it on today", you tell me.  "it was a little coolish in the room this morning".

"That's a nice sweater", I say.  "you have lots of nice clothes, if you would just wear them."

(remember, this is an old retired clothing merchant we are talking to.  There was a time when the dinner table conversation was about bras and suits and who is a size 16 and who is a size 12.  Sadly, it is rare today to see you take any interest in clothing on yourself, or anyone else).

You smirk, "do you know what this sweater is?"

"No", I say.

"I got this sweater at the store down there" (you point out the window).

Ah yes, we went through a phase, soon after you move to the condo, where you regularly went shopping at the Goodwill shop down the street.  You especially liked Senior's day, which I believe was Wednesdays, when there was small extra discount for seniors.

"It was so cheap, I had to buy it.  But, I looked at the label, and did you know? Its a women's sweater".

"Oh so its a woman's sweater but you decided to wear it anyway?".

"yes" (and you are amused by this)


*******************************************


"That's' a nice coat you are wearing, really cute", you notice.

I am wearing a new Betsy Johnson walking coat - in navy blue with blossom shaped rose gold buttons and beautiful pink and blue lining.

This observation and comment is noteworthy because of where we have been, and because of the significant improvement toward your old person that the statement represents.

******************************************


"We ran into to the lady down the hall today", you tell me.  "She is a former stewardess you know and she has quite a wardrobe. She was wearing an A line dress"

An A line dress.  Yes, that is the old merchant talking again.

***********************

All attributed to improvements in your mental state, attributed to "our girl", your new PCA
http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/our-girl.html

channel 43

Channel 43 is your favorite TV channel.
http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/01/the-golden-girls.html

On the table next to your chair, there is a taped piece of paper with large letters "43", just in case you forget which station you like.

Today when I arrive, the room is quiet. The TV is not on.  You have been reading.

Now you realize that usually when I am there, Family Feud is on the TV.  We have come to enjoy watching Family Feud together.  Even I, who typically would never watch a game show, can now easily spend 10-15 minutes watching Family Feud.

"Turn the TV on  - channel 63 ", you tell me.

I am standing with the clicker, trying to get the system to obey.

I press 4 and then 3.  Up pops channel 33.

"yes, channel 33", you say.

our girl

You call her "our girl".

She is your Personal Care Assistant/ Chef/ Nurse/Physical therapist/ Friend/ housekeeper/chauffeur/ The grand-daughter you never had.
Her presence has recently turned your life around.
You are cleaner.  You are happier.  You seem more relaxed.  You are nicer.
Every day you tell me how much you like her.

**********************************
we have had this same conversation many times:

"What is her name again?", you ask me.

"Sherrey", I say.

"What?"

"Sherrey", I say again.

"Sherrey?", you ask.

"Yes, Sherrey."

"how do you spell that?"

"S- H - E- R- R- E -Y".

"Sherrey?  Why can't I remember that?", you ask.

"We could write it down so you just have to look at it to remember it", I offer.

"Help me think of something else to remember it", you say.

"Sherrey Berry", I offer. "Sherry, like the wine", I try again.

"do you know where she is from?", you ask.

I tell you where she is from.

"Ok. Yes, I was just checking if you knew."

************************************

"We go for our walk, and it always seems to end with picking up the mail", you tell me.

"She has a thing for my mail", you muse, "but today there wasn't hardly anything".

You are lucky, I say.  All I get is mostly junk mail.

Little do you know, Sherrey is acting on my instructions to help keep you out of trouble in the building.  I have also put your name, address and phone number on every possible do not call, do not solicit list there is, and more than once.  I also do whatever I can to take revenge on the junk mail solicitors.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2014/09/stop-junk-mail-and-how-to-get-revenge.html

We are trying to blend in, not stir up controversy, because you want to stay here, remember???


****************************

Your right to poor choices

It is still generally believed that you have a right to make poor choices for yourself, as long as you are competent to make those poor choices.


********************************************

I eventually came to peace with the poor medical choices made by my parents.  I have held the belief of  health care autonomy for competent individuals, the right to make poor choices.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/first-heart-attack-spraying-roundup-on.html

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/its-breast-cancer.html

And, I remain fairly comfortable with that still today.

But do not be mistaken about your poor choices being a victim-less crime unless you live in total isolation of all people.

At the least, the people who love you will be the victims.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/we-are-all-vulnerable.html
At the most, the whole world will be the victims.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2014/10/pseudoscience-scam-and-ebola-outbreak.html


****************************************

I didn't realize I was so passionate about vaccinations until I unfriended someone on Facebook last summer, because of all of their anti-vaccination posts.

I can no longer defend your right to all personal poor choices.


**********************************

As we transition into dementia, do we retain our right to make poor choices?

In American society, families can have a great deal of influence to deal with these situations, but as my story illustrates, families can't always prevent disaster. Social services are limited in what they can actually achieve.  The courts are the last resort.

and who makes the ultimate determination of where the competence begins or ends, and where our right to poor choices ends?  It has to be very extreme to merit extra-familial formal intervention.

We are all vulnerable

I started this blog, focusing on the story of my dad, the vulnerable character.

But, as I write, I keep discovering other vulnerable characters.

I have known so many vulnerable characters.

I am also a vulnerable character.

And I realize that we are all vulnerable, to something, sometime.

***********************************************

By the very nature of caring about a vulnerable character, we must open ourselves up enough to be vulnerable, to potential emotional expense of the interaction.

***********************************

The expense of caring for some vulnerable characters is much higher than caring for others.
For example:

You (ie not dad, but someone else) are in a longstanding domestic violence situation and we all know it, but we are powerless to fix it.  You refuse help (or you are afraid to get help, afraid of consequences, afraid of loss of "love" from the abuser).  We know you won't tell the truth to the police if we were to report for you.  And, getting help might make it even more dangerous for you.
We watch helplessly, from afar, as the situation unwinds .

On another day, its a health matter, for which you refuse appropriate care, which could have grave consequences of death or disability.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/01/choosing-insanity-in-dangerous-world.html

Both are upsetting.

Still, I would rather see you die of a medical condition, due to poor choices,  than murder.

Big fish

I own only 3 or 4 movie DVDs.

One of them is the movie "Big Fish".

there is so much in that movie that reminds me of our  story.

You, my father, are the storyteller as seen in the movie Big Fish.  Your stories, perhaps, weren't quite as fantastical, nor the characters, quite as colorful, but there was still a similarity. This was present as long as I knew you.

And my reaction was always to partly believe, and to partly not believe it all.
It was never so obviously not true that I knew I couldn't trust you.

***********************************************

Well, that isn't completely true.  I did figure out, in 1993, that you were not a good source for financial advice.  I stopped asking for your financial advice after I quickly lost $13,000.

Also, today I am reminded of the day you took me and my husband to the safe, and told us the secret combination, and that there was so much money in there I would never have to work.  I believed you.  You were my dad. I still went on to get an education and work.  But what if I had relied on that information?  Was it a delusion or a lie then? Or did you lose it all to scams?

********************************************

The poignancy of the Big Fish  movie, for me, was the funeral, when all the fantastical bigger than life characters turned out to be real.
It wasn't all a fantasy, or a lie.

**********************************

We have pictures of those colorful characters from my early life.  It was true then, too.

Is this what made it seem feasible to you, that the scam scenarios in 2009 and 2010 were true?

****************************************

Was the dementia present already in 1993 when you gave me bad financial advice? or a few years earlier when you took me to the safe?

Were you a normal person who went on to insidiously develop fronto temporal dementia?

Or, did you actually have manic depression, or some other untreated psychiatric condition, earlier in life, which made it all the harder for us to notice or to deal with  the transition?

************************

Some answers never come

closure.

That thing we all want, especially when we are hurt, or when things don't make sense.

Sometimes we don't get closure.
Or we need to create our own closure.
Some answers never come.

***********************************************

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/its-breast-cancer.html

I ask my mother, "Why didn't you tell anyone about the breast cancer???", "how long did you know about it??"

She says, in her stuttering speech: "I don't know".  And it is clear from the new person she is , post stroke, she doesn't know why she made the poor choices she made before. She wouldn't make the same choice again,  In fact, much to my surprise, she chose to fight for her life, to try treatment, it would be  too little too late, but again her choice.

There's no point in crying over spilled milk, as they say.

**************************************

supernatural peace is the only answer that has worked for me.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives....."
John 14:27

The day I lost it

circa late March, 2001
We are bringing mom home from the hospital today.  She has been there for 2+ months, related to the treatments needed for the breast cancer and the stroke.  She has had toilet mastectomy, plastic surgery skin grafts, radiation therapy, physical therapy. She is in a wheelchair, but also has a 4 point cane, and she can walk a bit, but still needs someone to stand by.  She has regained a stuttering speech that we are so thankful for - and we continue to work on.
You have stayed at her side continuously throughout the process as I have flown in and out of another world, to be with you.


During this entire time I had no clue  of how impaired you already were or of what would follow.

******************************************

We arrive home and I set about setting up the home.  I ask you to get the medications we had filled at the pharmacy.  You disappear into the back of the house for longer than necessary.

When you return with the medication, it is apparent that something isn't right.

The tablets don't look like normal pills I am accustomed to seeing.  Instead, they look like clear plastic capsules with grassy like powders inside.

*********************************************

You had decided, on your own, that you weren't going to give her the medication that had been prescribed by the doctors.  Instead, the grassy substances were various supplements that you had extracted from the huge stock of bottles located  around the house.

Did you forget that I have spent my life studying medicine and science?  That I am an actual expert in the room?

*********************************************

I put my hands on each of your shoulders, standing over you as you sat in the chair, looking at me without concern, and I SHOOK the shoulders with the emphasis of my words:
"You are a F_ _ _ _  UP!!!"  I repeatedly exclaimed, in horror.

I liked to tell people afterwards, it was the day I kicked your ass, that I shouldn't have waited so long to have kicked your ass.  But, I didn't really kick your ass.  It was a tragic realization.

***************************

My vulnerable mother is not safe with my father as caregiver.

No.  2015 Translation: My vulnerable mother is not safe with my vulnerable father as caregiver.

What would it have taken for me to have actually gotten control of that situation in 2001?  I don't think it would have been possible to have done any more than I did, short of moving in with them.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2014/11/what-you-should-do-if-this-happens-to.html

*****************

You didn't seem very concerned by my reaction, or the tears, making me cry, making mom cry.

You are, however, alarmed that I said the F word.

You also aren't appropriately  alarmed when social services show up over the next months, following my report of Mom as a vulnerable adult.

**********************************

Was this already part of the dementia, but I attributed it only to poor choices? ?

Yes, I would say that more than anything, the lack of empathy or the loss of social boundary, permitting you to not be concerned by the need for oversight by a Social Service agency, in order to maintain basic proper medication management of the person YOU are caring for, is a manifestation of the dementia in progress.   A normal person, even if they had made a judgment error, would be called into check, would self correct, and also be embarrassed by this requirement; but you weren't.

**************************

the timeline on the story noted above isn't quite 100% factual. The part about the  meds on day 1 arrival at home is true.  But the part about me losing it actually was a week or 2 later, but related to a similar issue, as I recall.

First heart attack- spraying roundup on thistles

circa June 4, 1989

You are age 58.

You call me from the hospital in Sioux Falls.  You have been there a day or 2 already, didn't seem to see any urgency to call.

You explain what had happened:
The chest pain had been sufficiently bad that you couldn't recline.  You decided the solution was to sleep in the car (poor choice #1).  My mother joins you in the car (poor choice # 2).  Neither of you thinks to call me (poor choice # 3), your physician daughter, who could have made the diagnosis over the telephone.

Eventually you drive to a small rural hospital, 60 miles from home (poor choice # 4), presenting with chest pain. The EKG shows an anterior MI, but its 1989, and a student is covering the ED.  You are sent home.  It was the wrong thing to do.  He didn't know any better and he wasn't adequately supervised.  Plus, they don't know you in this small town, they don't have any investment in you, as they would have had you gone to your local hospital where people know and care about you.

The next day you spend the day slowly spraying thistles with Roundup (This may be significant in retrospect , 26 years later).  Its not a hard job, but its too much.

Eventually the system kicks in and the abnormal EKG is recognized and you are called back to the hospital.

First angioplasty.

I am watching Tiananmen square protests taking place on the TV in your hospital room.  I am very concerned, very upset, by the poor choices you made in getting to this point.You had at your fingertips resources that could have given a better outcome.  But you chose not to use them.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/your-right-to-poor-choices.html

*****************************

Does he have diabetes?

The answer was "no" at the time, but by today's criteria, he did have diabetes.

You also never bothered to followup with a cardiologist or primary care doctor, as a routine measure, following this event.

You knew better than any of us, you knew better than what the doctors advised.
Your high intake of supplements would save you.
You continue to order in bulk. The house is increasingly littered with bottles of unopened supplements, cans  of lecithin, brewers yeast, etc. The kitchen cupboards have bottles of stevia, cinnamon.

My mother changes your diet - virtually eliminating red meat.  You rely much more on what comes from the home garden.

**********************************************

From then on you became much more emotional, tearing up with good byes.
Was a part of the brain lost already with that event?
Or were the tears a recognition and acknowledgment of your own mortality?

*********************************************

I used to plead with you back then for proper medical care.  I pleaded with both you and Mom.  It was agonizing and frustrating.

Another part of the frustration was the way you preached to and pushed  others to participate in what YOU were taking or doing, as if you actually were in better shape or more wise  than everyone else.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/your-right-to-poor-choices.html

vegetables

Its the late 1990s  -  I live in another world.

You don't call me and I don't call you, except on special occasions, like birthdays, holidays.  Why?  Its nothing personal, we just never had that style.  You were never nurturing, or the types to reach out.

Also, it seems you only want to talk about vegetables.  There is no personal substance to any of it anymore.  Just more commentary on vegetables.

Its not right.  I can see something isn't quite right.

***************************************************

"Mom, what's wrong with dad?", I say.

******************************************************

"Dad, what's wrong with mom?"

*****************************************************

Neither of you has an answer.   Just more superficial talk about vegetables.

******************************************

Is it possible that the Roundup, or other farm exposures,  hurt both of your brains and other body parts?

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/first-heart-attack-spraying-roundup-on.html

its breast cancer

January 18, 2001.

The phone rings.  Its you calling me from the hospital in Sioux Falls.  Mom was admitted to the hospital last night.  Before you had the chance to say anything more, I said to you, "She has breast cancer, doesn't she?".  Yes, you say, with clear emotion.

While sitting at dinner the night before, Mom had suddenly requested that you take her to the hospital, not the local hospital, but the tertiary care center 90 miles away.  You could barely understand her speech.  Something was wrong with it.  She couldn't get the words our right.  En route, she confessed she had a "lump" in her breast.  She had also experienced an episode of loss of speech 6 months earlier and earlier the same day.


**************************************************************
it was a lot more than just breast cancer. 

************************************************************

I arrive after an emergency flight to Sioux Falls.  She is lying in the bed, small, not speaking.

What is that smell?
The doctor comes in to look at the biopsy site - we meet for the first time.  He lifts the gown and I can't believe what I see:

 It was a neglected breast cancer that had eaten the breast off the surface of the chest, leaving stinky poopy smelling hole.

It had already spread to the bone.

The illness had caused such a profound anemia that she had a stroke, losing speech and the use of the right side of the body.
***********************************************

you start to speak of fighting the cancer and of hope which seems totally out of place to me based on what I see.
It will be a miracle if she lives 3 months.  We need to help her move on with reality now, not try to hold her back.

***************************************

how many years did it take for this thing to develop like this?
Why has this been hidden?
Why didn't you notice it?
Why didn't you tell me?

*************************************

The doctor expresses his sympathy to me, doctor to doctor.
He knows what I know, and how this would make me feel.

**************************

I internally recall that I always somehow intuitively knew it would come to this for her.  The first time I ever saw such a site during my medical training, I thought to myself, "that is something my own mother would let happen" .

FTD and PPA-- it ain't AD

I have a phone conversation, or maybe it was an email, with an old college friend. We haven't had close contact over the years, but the mutual trust and friendship have never wavered.

By coincidence, and my great fortune, she is a dementia related health advocate expert, based in another state.

I tell her about what has been going on with my dad, and she says, "Does he have FTD or PPA?"

I have never heard of FTD or PPA! 

I google it - 

FrontoTemporal Dementia 

Primary Progressive Aphasia

I read the descriptions, and I am sure FTD is what he has.  

Its not Alzheimer's disease (AD), which has a different set of presenting manifestations and a speedier decline. It might be misdiagnosed as psychiatric disease.  

The course of this disease has been so insidious and so slow, we didn't see it coming, and yet we were suffering with the consequences of it for at least 9 years prior to the sentinel event of 12/23/09.

http://www.brain.northwestern.edu/pdfs/ftdppaconference/ApproachesToBehaviors.pdf

http://www.brain.northwestern.edu/pdfs/ftdppaconference/ExpandingCareTeamMidLate.pdf

http://www.brain.northwestern.edu/pdfs/ftdppaconference/CopingRelationshipBehaviorChanges.pdf

caregiver negligence as a sign of dementia

9/24/03

Your wheel chair bound, aphasic wife sits alone in the house, watching TV, as she has done every day, since the stroke in early 2001.
But its getting dark outside, and you haven't been back to the house in many hours.
There has been no dinner for either of you.
There has been no opportunity for a trip to the bathroom for her.


One week ago, while visiting her oncologist, you became confused and were noted to have hypoglycemia (low blood sugar).

She is worried about you.  Its 8 PM, its dark outside, and you should be back in the house by now.

She calls 911.  I can just hear her stuttering speech as she would try to reach out for help.

The paramedics find you mowing the ditch in the dark.

You can't understand why anyone would be concerned, but you return to the  house.

***********************************************

15 minutes later when I call back I find out that you are on the other phone line  in the back of the house, talking to a mystery man (another one of your get rich quick associates, I am sure).

When I confront you on who you are talking to, you say "Is this an inquisition?" and you hang up on me.

**********************************

The very first notice of dementia

I was suddenly remembering what I thought was the very first notice we had of your need for assisted living.  I was looking through my notes trying to find the record with the first recommendation. I think it was 2003, and it followed a hospitalization for encephalopathy related to untreated diabetes.

However, instead, I found other notes that I had written in 2003, which reminded me of other pieces of evidence, long forgotten, but now linking together the trail we have been winding over the years:
failed payments on utilities, resulting in late fees and threats to turn off electricity
lost insurance due to failure to pay ; this followed by decision to cancel insurance (a poor choice)
speeding ticket
running out of gas (frequently)
trading options on the stock market ; trading currency (could there possibly be a more fiscally dangerous hobby for a dementing person?)
suboptimal care of your physically ill and vulnerable wife (for whom you were  primary caregiver at the request of both parties)
http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/its-breast-cancer.html
Medication mismanagement
http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-day-i-lost-it.html
excessive purchase/ use of over the counter food supplements
lies about large financial purchase/ losses on the one hand, while nit picking over a penny saved on food, gas, phone service
failure to file income tax

**************************************************************

 At the time of the very first recommendation that you should have assisted living, YOU were functioning as a care -giver for your wife, who was wheelchair bound from a stroke, and suffering from cancer.

***********************************************

2003.
It was clearly coming in 2003.
Actually, I am sure it was clearly coming in 2001, and I don't know what  I don't know from before 2001, because I lived in another world,  and I didn't take care of you then like I take care of you now.
And you didn't call me and tell me things.

******************************

Back then I called it magical thinking

why can't I use the microwave

"why can't I use the microwave?"  you ask me.

What you mean is that you can't seem to make it run.  You place your coffee cup inside, but when you go to press the buttons to run it, you can't make it run.

"You need to show me how to use the microwave".

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I give you a quick lesson on how to warm up a cup of coffee.  I place the cup in the microwave.

I set the time on 45 seconds.  I press start.  

This is all you need to do.

I actually don't believe you are able to choose the time anymore.  If we had a microwave that said "reheat coffee", and all you had to do was press that button , and start, it might work, but to have to enter a time, 45 seconds or even one minute, is probably beyond your current skill set.

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an interesting part of your dementia process has been the significant impact it has had on doing things mechanically with the hands or body.  This has resulted in significant problems in specific areas of daily living

- turning the TV on and off using a remote control clicker device

- changing the TV channel 

- using the telephone (especially if not the old fashioned rotary style)

- using alarm clocks

-using electric razor

Looking back, I remember how you used to get very angry with me when you were living alone on the prairie, and you had difficulties using your computer.  That was the beginning of the end.  You don't even try to use the computer now (which is a appropriate).

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I don't tell you that we had turned the electricity off to the microwave when we leave you alone.  

Its interesting how you never notice at all, as each time I come and go, I am flipping the switch for the microwave on the fuse box.  I am only 6 feet away from you doing this, every day, and you never notice.

We have done this since the fire.

http://seniorfraud.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-room-smells-like-smoke.html