When we wrote about Erica Saathoff's experience losing her father suddenly, caring for a mom living with Alzheimer's, and eventually moving her into memory care, it set a record for reader replies. You had questions. A lot of them. How did she actually hand over care to a stranger? How did she move her mom without it becoming a catastrophe? How did she handle kids, work, and caregiving? 

Consider the below, your answer.

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While Erica waited for hospice to arrive for her dad, she found what would be a life-saver for her mom, in a file cabinet. Before Alzheimer’s, her mom had been deeply organized, the kind of person who kept the important stuff exactly where it should be. Inside was a long-term care policy with a 90-day elimination period, meaning the family had to cover care costs before it would kick in. Her dad held on for a few more days while Erica, with the help of her husband, brother, and sister-in-law made plans.

After her dad passed, things moved fast. Erica called a home care agency, sat down with the owner, and figured out what she could claim. Three days of care, seven days credited toward the elimination period. The math isn't glamorous, but in caregiving, it rarely is.

Home care aides are not a monolith. Erica's mom made that extremely clear. The first aide took her to the mall, at the suggestion of Erica, leaving her mom unimpressed. The second aide was older, from the same small community, and grandmother to one of her son's best friends. Her mom referred to her as "the good one." As in: “Is the good one coming today?” Presumably within earshot of the first aide. Alzheimer's has a way of removing filters.

Bringing paid help into her mom’s home felt eerily familiar. Erica, a school teacher, was writing notes similar to the ones she’d left for her children's babysitter. Unlike a kid, her mom knew something was being taken from her and she pushed back in the ways she could. Her mom would take her meds, even the night ones, in the morning before Erica arrived. She refused to change her clothes. And she repeatedly filed formal grievances with the framed photo of her late husband over Erica’s rules and policies. 

Her dad's photo was unavailable for comment. The role reversal, along with the grief of her father’s sudden passing, was breaking Erica’s heart. The return to her classroom coincided with the realization that Erica’s mom needed more than a few hours of in-home care each week. She’d need to move into memory care where support was more consistent, yet still close enough for frequent visits. 

Like any Type A-er worth their title, Erica had the move planned to the minute. She knew it would be a team effort and she and her brother had every detail ironed out. She'd take her mom to a long-overdue Social Security appointment, they’d all meet for lunch, then head to the facility together. Her mom wouldn't be home when her bed disappeared. 

Life, as it often does, had plans of its own. The Social Security appointment took ten minutes. The movers were an hour late. And her mom ended up back home, at the kitchen table, weeping while watching strangers carry her furniture out the door.

With the help of her brother, the move persisted. The new home was inviting. The staff was warm. For about ten minutes, everyone thought it was going to be okay. Then her mom proclaimed “everyone is elderly here.” Her mom is 71 and didn’t feel as though she belonged. Erica had contingency plans for her contingency plans. None of them covered this. Leaving her mom nearly crushed Erica. 

The first week of her mom living in memory care was the hardest since her dad passed away. Her mom called the facility jail. Announced her parole to fellow residents every time the family came to pick her up. 

Publicly, Erica held it together. But on Wednesday of that first week, she pulled into her driveway after a visit and cried harder than she had since the whole thing started. She had a long-overdue doctor's appointment that afternoon. She went. Between the sobs, she shared that she needed help sleeping. The doctor obliged. 

Erica’s doing better. And her mom is settling. Every Sunday, she comes to Erica's house for dinner. When her mom says she misses everyone, they remind her: We're all at work. You get to do activities while we're stuck at our jobs. It's the answer that holds. For now.

After her mom moved into memory care, Erica ran into an acquaintance, who, after hearing the story and with equal parts ignorance and confidence, proclaimed “I could never do that”. Unhelpful with a side of insulting. A dish served regularly to caregivers.  

She shared her story because she's one of the first in her friend group to go through this. Things she’d tell any friend who might be experiencing something similar:

Get the paperwork before you need the paperwork.
It may not make for a great movie, but it improves the odds of a better ending. It’s an act of love to share policies, passwords, power of attorney’s, the safe key, account lists, and key documents with your loved ones before an emergency arises. Erica’s family found the long-term care policy by chance, while waiting for hospice. 

The first help may not be the right help. Keep going.
Home care is not one-size-fits-all, and your mom will likely have opinions. Strong ones. Chemistry matters. The right aide can make an unbearable situation more manageable while the wrong one for your family can make it worse.

Your mom may fight the help, even when she needs it.
That doesn’t always mean you’re making the wrong call. Loss of independence rarely arrives with grace and gratitude.

Two things can be true: it can be the right decision and it can feel terrible.
Moving your mom into memory care can be both necessary and brutal. Relief and guilt are caregiving companions. One does not cancel out the other.

You do not have to wait until you’re fully falling apart to ask for help.
Later is a scam. Get yourself help in any form you can.

Your grief may surprise you.
You may cry harder after the move than at the funeral. You may feel numb in the crisis and wrecked once the plan is in motion. Heartbreak doesn’t follow a map.

Let the plan change shape.
A move to memory care is not the end of caring for someone, rather a new version of it. Familiarity and comfort can exist even when addressing change.

Worth knowing: Digital and phone support for caregivers and loved ones of those living with Alzheimer’s can be found at the Alzheimer's Foundation of America and the Alzheimer’s Association.

You can’t fail this one. Answers and another quiz drop next week.

You said it. This week’s submissions.

"Recently, my dad said to me 'it's okay sweetie.' I knew he knew who I was in that moment."

"Dad slept his first night in a nursing home last night. I didn't expect to be so heartbroken."

"My mom asked me, 'who's going to take care of me if you can't?'"

"Ugh... not fun."

"Seeing their art from the senior center."

"Rough week. Mom was in the hospital last week and brother has ghosted us. Ugh!"