“You Got What You Wanted”: Family Conflict, POA, and Planning Before the Crisis, Part 4

“You got what you wanted.”

Those words, spitting fire more than spoken, were meant to hurt. The “you” is the family member responsible for daily care and financial stability after two years of diagnosis and several foggy, confusing years before that. Things were terrifying enough that only the most trusted people were told what was really going on. That one sentence was loaded with disapproval and judgment.

“You can’t tell us what to do.” That was the mood in the room. It felt like a battle was coming, and it would be bloody.

This war has been brewing for decades of entitled chaos, where it was always easier to back down than confront. The misogyny is real, and the bullying is on point. This dysfunction started before the siblings were old enough to spell “dysfunction,” let alone have an opinion about it—or care how it would all play out later in the brutal adult world of elderly memory care.

When Family Conflict Collides with Care

The professionals involved:

3 doctors (GP, neuropsych, cardiologist)

2 psychologists

2 lawyers

2 CPAs

1 financial planner

Alzheimer’s Association (national and state) – www.alzbr.org

You’d think we were trust-fund babies or some obscure dynasty with yachts, offshore accounts, and a secret motive behind all this bitterness and hatred.

We’re not. We are a very ordinary, very tired, very not-rich family.

I know what real wealth drama looks like, at least from the outside. I’ve had the side-eye view from behind the salon chair, listening to clients share the next chapter of their lives: brutal family wars over who gets what, who “deserves” more, and who’s “owed” for being the favorite child, the “good” daughter, or the long-lost disappointment.

But here’s the dark punchline: the only person who truly gets hurt is the one quietly asking:

“How awful was I as a parent to you? This is so disrespectful to me as your parent. I’m not even dead yet, or so addled I won’t care who is left standing in the end.”

Family conflict is almost guaranteed when hard decisions and big feelings slam into money, guilt, and a failing body. But there are ways to make it suck less—and sometimes, to keep it from completely blowing up.

The Part No One Wants to Talk About

Money, control, and caregiving collide in messy, sticky, painful ways.

Old wounds and ancient arguments crawl out from under the rug the second someone’s health starts to fail. Suddenly, the kid who “never did anything right” has opinions. The golden child discovers boundaries. The invisible one is suddenly in charge of meds, money, rides, bills, and everyone’s rage.

I’ve watched it for years from the salon chair:

Siblings who won’t speak to each other.

Cousins who lawyer up before the funeral.

Parents who thought they’d done everything “right,” only to watch their kids tear each other apart over what’s left.

Now, instead of just hearing those stories, I’m living one.

When Tension Rises: First Steps (When You’d Rather Throw a Chair)

You can feel it when the air changes. Voices get sharp. Someone brings up money. Someone else pulls out a phone “to take notes for later” (aka build their case). Your jaw locks. Your stomach flips.

When that happens, a few simple moves—think of them as emotional first aid—can keep it from escalating:

Hit pause. Literally say, “I need to pause this conversation for a minute.” Step outside. Get water. Sit on a toilet if you have to. It’s harder for people to keep screaming when you’re not in the room.

Schedule the fight. Try: “This matters. Let’s come back to it tonight/tomorrow when everyone’s calmer.” It sounds ridiculous, but even drama needs a calendar.

Write it down. Grab a notebook or your phone: “Okay, one at a time—what are your biggest concerns?” People calm down faster when they know their fears are at least captured somewhere.

Phone a friend (or professional). Text a trusted person: “I’m about to lose it. Can I talk this through later?” It helps you unload before you explode.

If it stays heated, or you’re dealing with someone who likes chaos (you know the type), it might be time for a neutral third party: a social worker, therapist, elder care professional, geriatric care manager, or mediator.

You can often find help through:

Local senior or community centers

Area agencies on aging

Elder care organizations

Legal aid services

Hospital or care facility referral lists

The Alzheimer’s Association

These people are used to families behaving badly under pressure. You’re not the first disaster they’ve seen.

Setting boundaries around communication—how often, who, when, and in what format—can keep everyone a little safer. Even something as simple as: “Updates go in the group text once a week. No more midnight rage calls,” can change everything.

Boundary-Setting Phrases You Can Steal When Your Brain Is Fried

In the moment, your brain will go blank. You’ll either say nothing and stew—or say too much and regret it.

Keep a few of these phrases in your notes app so you can copy/paste instead of compose:

“Let’s agree to update the family once a week by group text so everyone gets the same information.”

“I need us to take turns speaking so we each have a chance to share our thoughts without interruption.”

“For now, I’ll be the main point of contact with the doctor, but I’ll share key updates with everyone.”

“I want to help, but I can’t respond to texts or calls after 8 p.m. unless there’s an emergency.”

“I’m not willing to be yelled at. If this continues, I’ll hang up, and we can try again later.”

Use your outside voice if needed. You’re not auditioning for “Most Liked Sibling.” You’re trying not to lose your mind. “As you wish” is my personal favorite. It simply means the chips will fall, and I won’t interfere in how that plays out for y’all—on your own—and you have no idea how often I am reminding someone to call your asses back, communicate, answer the damn texts or calls. The next time you ask me if everything is okay because you haven’t gotten that call back, the reply text is: that’s on you all to figure the fuck out. #iykyk #getaclue

Asking for help doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re trying to protect:

Your loved one’s dignity,

Your own nervous system,

And whatever is left of your family relationships.

“Do As I Say”: The Long Game of Planning

“They got their inheritance years ago; now they don’t care except when they can bleed me dry. This is why you are in charge. You don’t care who hates you as long as you abide by my wishes, as you did when you managed the salons.”

Translation: You’re the one I trust to piss people off in my name.

“Do as I say.” Yes, ma’am vibes.

All of the professionals were hired years ago. Some of those relationships now span decades. The POA was not alone in the decision-making. None of this was made up on the fly after a bad holiday and a few hurt feelings.

It was all planned out around September 1997. I remember because she sat me down and explained that this business partnership we were forming needed to actually mean something—in case something happened to her or to the person she chose to finalize affairs. Death, dementia, disaster—pick a door.

Her father “fathered” her memory care journey. Watching him lose himself taught her one thing clearly: you plan early, or someone else plans for you.

Her family had about a 3-in-1 chance of developing memory issues. No cure. No miracle. Just a clock ticking.

Every week, the news about her father’s health got worse. Alzheimer’s. The nursing home is not hopeful. His wife is exhausted. Timeline: 3–4 weeks.

She felt the urgency—not just to protect her small business, but to protect the person she was putting in charge when things went bad.

Her intuition that day was dead-on. I remember thinking she was being a little paranoid, but I showed up to the meeting anyway—me, her attorney, and the finance guy. She didn’t have much, but she was proud of scraping her way to modest success after making bad decisions and living with heavy regrets.

Honestly? It was a boring conversation for a 22-year-old salon owner with a national teaching gig and a mini fan base for a product company. I wanted hair, not healthcare, on my agenda.

But that slow, grown-up conversation turned out to be one of the most important of our lives.

Her version of Alzheimer’s Care 101 was blunt:

“Sit down with your loved one and plan for the future before the future slaps your clueless ass.”

Alzheimer’s Care 101: Plan Before the Crisis Hits

Planning feels cold. Unloving. Morbid. It’s not.

It’s love with a deadline.

If you’re not sure how to start, here are some conversation openers that are honest but not terrifying:

“Have you thought about what kind of help you’d want if things ever changed with your health?”

“Can we talk about how you’d like things to be handled if you ever need extra support?”

“Are there any specific wishes you have about your care or your home if we ever need to make changes?”

When you start, keep it simple. Focus on:

Care preferences – What matters most if their abilities change? Staying at home? Not being alone? Not being a burden? (Spoiler: they’ll say that last one.)

Money and resources – What’s actually available for care? Be honest. You can’t pay for a luxury memory care facility with vibes and denial.

Legal documents – Power of Attorney, will, and anything else local laws require.

Clarity on these topics early gives everyone a starting point and helps avoid the most stomach-turning surprises later.

If your loved one resists (many do), start smaller:

Talk about short-term “what ifs.”

Make temporary plans: “For the next six months, if X happens, we’ll do Y.”

Bring in a trusted friend, advisor, doctor, clergy member—someone whose voice they respect.

It may take several gentle attempts before they’re ready. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means they’re scared.

You could also try:

“I know this isn't easy to think about, but would you be open to sharing what matters most to you if things start to change?”

“Could we talk about what makes you feel comfortable and safe at home, just in case we ever need to make adjustments?”

“If you ever want to write down your wishes, I can help make sure they’re followed. There’s no rush, but I want to get it right for you.”

Think of these as emotional crowbars. They gently pry the door open without kicking it off the hinges.

Get Affairs in Order (Before the Drama Starts Casting Calls)

Her list was simple but strong:

Power of Attorney

Will and testament

Executor who actually understands what that means (and won’t crumble under pressure)

If these words sound like legal alphabet soup, here’s the no-BS version:

A Power of Attorney (POA) gives a trusted person legal authority to make decisions for someone else, usually when that person can no longer do so. (Translation: when life gets weird and paperwork starts multiplying.)

A will explains how a person’s property—money, home, sentimental items—should be handled after they die. In the end, what still exists is what's available. If it was liquidated for financial needs because Alzheimer’s in the early days gave it all away willingly, and with the helpful guidance of the ones who benefited from uncharacteristically generous giving, you can’t fight over it, because the gifts were given before death.

An executor is the person chosen to ensure those wishes are carried out, not just debated over group texts.

Start with an honest, slightly awkward conversation:

What kind of care do they actually want?

Who do they trust with money and health decisions? (Not who should be trusted or who is the eldest—who is.)

How do they want their assets handled? Equal? Needs-based? Donate half to the cat rescue?

Once you’ve got the basics, gather key paperwork:

A list of assets (accounts, property, anything big)

Insurance policies

Bank and financial contact details

Then, talk to an estate planning or elder law attorney. Laws vary by state, and this is one area where “I saw it on TikTok” won’t hold up in court.

An attorney can help:

Create a legal POA

Draft a will that clearly reflects your loved one’s wishes

Officially name an executor

Some states offer standard forms online, but a lawyer is gold when you have:

Complicated families

Second marriages

Step-kids

Estranged relatives

Or that one person you know will lose their mind when they don’t get what they assumed was “theirs.”

Once everything is signed and notarized, keep the documents in a safe but accessible place and make sure key people know where they are.

Details like these keep the vultures at bay. You become harder to hassle and less likely to bend under pressure. Her guidance was clear: girls need to know how to defend themselves—financially, emotionally, and physically.

We ended up with financial and physical living wills and all the grown-up paperwork I never imagined we’d need so soon. One of my clients, an up-and-coming corporate attorney, offered to help make it all happen—estate planning for a broke-ass estate.

And honestly? That “broke-ass estate” planning has saved us over and over again.

The Love Underneath the Paperwork

From the outside, it might look like overkill:

Too many professionals.

Too much paperwork.

Too many boundaries.

CONTROL.

From the inside, it’s not drama. It’s survival. It’s love in legal form. Call it control, call it planning, call it the holy grail of a much softer landing to the free fall of memory decline, when the manageable becomes unhinged and out of fucking control.

Words of advice: Do it. Say it with your chest and hold on tight. My bumpy-ass ride doesn’t have to be yours—or, in the future, if you are fortunate enough to get the players on the field at the choreographed time, you might just avoid disaster.

This planning doesn’t erase the hurtful comments or magically fix relationships. It doesn’t stop people from saying, “You got what you wanted,” like you’re some cartoon villain swirling a brandy in the corner.

But it does give you a backbone when the storm hits.

When someone spits, “You got what you wanted,” you can quietly remember:

No.

She got what she asked for.

I’m just the one standing in the line of fire to carry it out.

What a Day in This Life Actually Looks Like

It’s not just big conversations and legal documents. It’s:

Early alarms.

Sink-stopper debates that somehow turn into World War III.

The paperwork that was signed decades ago.

The whispered insults.

The small, ridiculous victories—getting meds taken on time, a shower without a fight, a five-minute nap.

The stubborn, fierce love that keeps you showing up anyway.

If you’re somewhere in this story—

at the beginning with the early alarms,

in the thick of sink stoppers and outbursts,

or knee-deep in family conflict and paperwork—

—you’re not alone.

You’re doing more than you know. And it matters more than they may ever say out loud.

You may never get a “thank you” big enough to match what you’re holding together. You may get criticism, silence, or that knife-twisting line: “You got what you wanted.”

But every boundary you set, every document you sign, every hard conversation you have in the name of your loved one’s dignity—

—that’s love, too.

Plan early. Protect fiercely. Use humor when you can. Cry when you have to. And remember:

You’re not the villain for honoring their wishes.

You’re the one making sure their voice still matters, even when they can’t speak as loudly for themselves.

That’s not selfish.

That’s sacred, unpaid, under-credited work. And you’re doing it.