Community Resources: Learning What NOT to Do

After Grandpa’s neuropsychological evaluation, we had to start looking realistically at his finances.

Not emotionally.

Not hopefully.

Realistically.

There were bills that no longer made sense, expenses that had to be reduced, and responsibilities he could no longer manage the way he once had.

One of the first things we looked at was his car.

He could no longer drive, but he was still paying for the vehicle and the insurance. Letting go of those expenses could save a couple hundred dollars a month, and at that point, every dollar mattered.

So I called the bank and basically asked:

“We don’t want to pay this off. We need to give it back. How do we do that?”

That sounded simple enough in my head.

It was not simple.

The bank needed proof that I had the legal authority to act on Grandpa’s behalf.

At that point, I had medical documentation and authority related to his healthcare, but that did not automatically give me authority over his finances.

That was when I learned just how different healthcare decision-making and financial decision-making can be.

But right in the middle of that mess, God gave me one of those people you never forget.

The woman at the bank was kindhearted, patient, and compassionate.

She listened.

Really listened.

She heard the stress in my voice and understood that I was not trying to walk away from responsibility. I was trying to care for my grandfather, protect what little he had left, and figure out what we were legally allowed to do.

She was a believer.

And at one point, she cried with me.

Then she told me she was going to do everything she could to help.

I still think about her.

In a process filled with forms, policies, rules, and legal barriers, she reminded me that sometimes the thing a caregiver needs most is simply a human being on the other end of the phone.

A listening ear.

Patience.

Connection.

Compassion.

A willingness to go the extra mile.

I forgot to thank God for her then.

So I will do it now.

Thank you, God, for that woman.

And wherever she is today, I hope she is the CEO of that bank.

We need more people like her in this world.

Unfortunately, she could not also become my attorney, courthouse clerk, conservatorship expert, and parking attendant.

So back to reality I went.

The legal process had to begin.

I needed to pursue guardianship and conservatorship so I could properly help manage Grandpa’s care and finances.

Meanwhile, the bills kept coming.

I was already trying to build a budget around what Grandpa could afford, what needed to be paid, what could be cut, and what absolutely could not wait.

I paid some of the court-related expenses myself because I did not know any better.

Had I sought help sooner, someone might have explained what expenses could potentially be paid from Grandpa’s own funds once the proper legal authority was in place.

But the truth was, there really was not much money available anyway.

So a lot of it still fell back on me.

And this is where I made one of my biggest caregiving mistakes:

I tried to figure out too much of it by myself.

I went to the courthouse Self-Help Center.

I filled out the forms.

I tried to understand the language.

I made copies.

I paid for parking.

I stood in line.

I handed over my paperwork feeling pretty proud of myself.

And then I was basically told:

Do it again.

So I did.

More forms.

More copies.

More parking.

More confusion.

At one point, I think I had spent enough time at the courthouse that I should have received an employee badge.

Or at least a reserved parking space.

Instead, I became what I can only describe as a parking lot philosopher.

Sitting in my car, staring at paperwork, wondering:

What am I doing?

Why did I think I could do this myself?

How many copies of the same form can one person possibly need?

And most importantly:

Why is parking never free when your life is already falling apart?

I could have waited for a free attorney consultation.

I could have asked for help sooner.

I could have used community resources that were already designed to help families navigate these exact situations.

Instead, I apparently decided that along with being a social worker, care manager, wife, mother, granddaughter, medication coordinator, bill payer, and family organizer...

I was also going to become an attorney overnight.

I was not.

The courthouse clerk helped clarify that rather quickly.

Looking back, I can laugh about parts of it now.

Not because it was not stressful.

It was.

But caregiving has a strange way of turning some of your hardest moments into stories you can eventually shake your head at.

And this one taught me a very important lesson:

Community resources exist because families are not supposed to figure all of this out alone.

If I could redo this chapter, I would have started with a phone call.

I would have called Silver Key Senior Services and asked, “Where do I start?”

Silver Key Senior Services1625 S. Murray Blvd.Colorado Springs, CO 80916719-884-2300silverkey.org

I would have contacted The Justice Center for legal-resource guidance and brief attorney assistance.

The Justice Center719-473-6212thejusticecenterco.org

I would have used the El Paso County Self-Help Center before I filled out everything instead of after.

And I would have looked into The Arc Pikes Peak Region for guardianship education and materials.

The Arc Pikes Peak Region10 N. Meade Ave.Colorado Springs, CO 80909719-471-4800thearcppr.org

Would those resources have solved every problem?

No.

But they might have saved me some money.

They definitely would have saved me some stress.

And maybe they would have prevented me from earning my unofficial degree in courthouse parking-lot philosophy.

If my mistakes can help another caregiver make one less trip to the courthouse, spend a little less money, feel a little less lost, and know who to call first...

Then maybe all those parking receipts were worth something after all.