Since retiring, my path has been long and winding, and I am not done with the transition yet. My husband and I had a law firm with 11 lawyers, 2 paralegals, an office manager, and three assistants. We were all business lawyers with separate clients, most of whom were entrepreneurs. That meant we had to be available 24/7. We had exclusively a business practice, foregoing litigation, bankruptcy, divorce, and criminal law. We represented small and medium-sized businesses from the beginning to the end, hopefully through merger or acquisition. I also represented directors of public corporations on corporate governance matters and, once a year, served as an expert witness. I wrote two and edited six books for Thomson Reuters, all of which required annual updates because the subject matter was Colorado practice, and the law and/or practice changed every year. I also participated on a committee that wrote and reviewed the business laws for Colorado and spoke at two or three CLEs every year. I am describing my activities so you will know that, like you, I was very busy. This makes it much harder to transition to a world with no work demands.
My transition journey began when my husband awoke from a six-hour surgery and immediately informed me he did not have the cognitive ability to practice law at our high standard. After discussion and much thought, our partners told us they did not wish to continue the firm. I knew I couldn’t practice at the highest level and help my husband deal with the devastation of Alzheimer’s. I was then faced with dissolving an over 30-year law firm and finding a place where my husband could thrive as happily as possible with the awful and inevitable challenges of Alzheimer’s.
Dissolving the firm took 9 months. Fortunately, several years before, we had developed and implemented a document destruction policy as well as a digital filing system. Both of these were enormously helpful. Nonetheless, the firm had many clients, most of whom had been with the firm for several years, with many files. I had to transition the files to the firm’s former lawyers or another lawyer and transfer to clients or destroy the remaining files, all according to the firm’s file destruction policies, which required several steps to ensure the files were handled according to client instructions. At the same time, I had to collect the firm’s receivables, pay the firm’s creditors, and terminate continuing contracts. By “I,” I mean an office manager, a file clerk, an assistant, and me. Think telephones, internet, computers, malpractice, office lease, 401(k), furniture, and all shapes and sizes of supplies. That obviously kept me busy through 2013.
At the same time, I needed to find a place where my husband could have the best quality of life, given the progression of Alzheimer’s. We lived downtown Denver in a condo. That was not going to work. After discussing this with each other, we decided to move to a college town where our youngest daughter lived with her husband and two children. My husband’s most fervent wish was to be remembered by his grandchildren, and at that time, we had three. There were no condos or apartments in the college town that were not populated with college students and no houses close to our daughter’s. We decided to build a house, which was my first and now-sworn-only time to build. I sold our condo and arranged for our things to be packed and shipped to the town for storage while our house was being built. This is a nightmare I would never have survived without the patience and persistence of my son-in-law, who had more knowledge and interest in siding, plumbing, and doors than I ever will.
Our house was built for grandchildren. Our local grandson and granddaughter had his or her own bedroom with an adjoining bath and a basement full of books and toys, including a train they could ride and a tent.
During these short years, my husband and I spent as much time as we could with our two grandchildren and another granddaughter who would come from Atlanta to stay with us. We cooked with our grandchildren, played imaginary games with them, and introduced them to our favorite movies, including “Stagecoach.” They were amazed there were no cars in the olden days, and people had to travel in a slow and dirty stagecoach. I also spent that time just being with my husband, reading before our fireplace and transitioning our finances from him to me while his memory was intact. I cataloged our assets and liabilities, changed our passwords, and found and listed contact information.
After 4 ½ years, my husband’s Alzheimer’s had reached the point where I could no longer care for him. A college town is not designed for older people, much less those with dementia. The doctor told us there were only 4 places that could care for my husband, and he could not recommend any of them. I then had to prepare for another move, this time to Houston, which had excellent choices of memory care facilities as well as our older daughter and youngest grandchild. After exploring several facilities, I found one where I could live on one floor in independent living, and my husband could live in the same building in a memory care facility. During those next 1½ years, we spent enjoying our youngest grandchild and making sure my husband had good and consistent care. The facility was wonderful, with large, cheerful rooms and, most of all, personnel who had years of experience caring for Alzheimer’s patients. The head nurse even let my husband come to her office every day and give her legal advice.
When my husband died, I had to make another transition, learning how to live by myself and find another purpose.
My children and my grandchildren will always be my most important purpose. I travel to spend time with them and enjoy introducing them to new adventures through reading or showing them the wonders of New York City and the glaciers of Alaska. My first attempted transition to help my youngest grandchild was a colossal failure. I was a homeroom mother for his kindergarten class and a helper in the library for his school. I quickly learned I didn’t fit in with the younger Mothers who used the internet much more frequently than I did and that being a homeroom mother primarily involved collecting money for presents for the teacher. I stuck it out for a year and then, thankfully, did not volunteer the next year. The library was a different challenge. The shelves were very low, and I soon learned my exercise routine, which consisted entirely of walking, did not develop the muscles I needed for bending to those low shelves. Another failure.
Next, I decided to do some volunteer work for my university. I had been on the debate team, and that experience had changed my career from medicine to law. My decision was well-timed because the university committee charged with funding the debate team had just informed the coach that the team would have to raise 100% of its own funds. The challenge appealed to me. My university was a public university and was not equipped to raise money. The alumni had not been contacted in years, and there were no lists of former debaters with updated contact information. Working with the debate coach, I established a task force of former debaters, set up a quasi-endowment, worked with Advancement to create lists with current contact information for former debaters, worked to engage the former debaters with the university, and finally asked for money. At the same time, I convinced prominent former debaters to write letters to the President, Provost, Dean, and Chair describing how the debate had enhanced their careers. The end result was the President’s agreement to fund debate out of funds from his office, bypassing the committee. The transition endeavor was a success, and it also opened doors for me to meet other donors to the university who were at the university when I was there and with whom I had much in common. Through them, I am now involved in a Speakers Series that brings prominent national figures to Texas to give speeches to inspire our graduates and support the Women’s Basketball Collective. My connections led me to become a member of the College’s Advisory Committee and the President’s Council.
My continuing membership on the Colorado Secretary of State’s Advisory Committee was a failure. I had been on that committee for years when I was practicing law. The Committee asked me to return, I think because I knew the history of the committee. My membership lasted only a year because I realized knowing history was not important; knowing the issues practicing lawyers had with the Secretary of State’s office was. Clearly, a transition failure.
My biggest transition success so far has been participation in the Senior Lawyers Division of the American Bar Association. My husband and I learned many things the hard way during his Alzheimer’s journey (including legal, medical, financial, and practical obstacles), and I wanted to share what we had learned with the audience I know best--lawyers. Thanks to Jim Schwartz, the current chair of this publication and then Chair of the Senior Lawyers Division, I was able to do that. Jim and I put together 5 webinars, including those describing the symptoms of dementia, advisable financial preparation, the legal documents to update, the issues arising from employing caregivers as well as finding appropriate memory care facilities, and elder abuse. Patiently and thoroughly, Jim walked me through all the steps, giving me great feedback and setting high standards. We included lawyers, physicians, social workers, and, where appropriate, financial advisers on each panel. We also established a relationship with the Alzheimer’s Association so we could share information. After those webinars, I have continued to write for the Voice of Experience e-newsletter and have recently been elected to the Council of the Senior Lawyers Division.
