…requires general anesthesia and a capacity evaluation afterward.”
I had never been referred to any specialist. The receptionist read me the name on the referral: Dr. Alan Pierce, a “geriatric memory clinic” two towns away.
I looked up Dr. Pierce online. He wasn’t a geriatric specialist. He was a cosmetic dentist. His wife was my daughter-in-law’s cousin.
I called my doctor back and asked him to block any release of my records. Then I called the police non-emergency line. An officer came to my house that evening and listened carefully.
It took the investigators three weeks to put it together. My son, Ryan, and his wife, Sabrina, owed nearly two hundred thousand dollars to creditors. Their plan was to take me to Dr. Pierce for a “minor procedure,” keep me sedated and confused afterward, and have a cooperative “specialist” write a letter saying I had severe dementia. With that letter, they would ask a judge to appoint Ryan as my guardian. “Six months” was the deadline before the bank would foreclose on their house.
“The doctor” in Sabrina’s message didn’t exist. They’d invented my illness.
Dr. Pierce, when questioned, said he’d only been asked to “do a favor for family” and claimed he didn’t know what it was for. The state dental board suspended his license anyway.
Ryan and Sabrina were charged with attempted elder abuse and fraud. Ryan begged me to drop the charges. I told him I hoped he’d use the time to understand why I couldn’t.
At my next annual physical, my doctor smiled and said, “You’re going to outlive us all.” I told him that was the plan.
I changed every password, every account and my will. I go for a walk every morning and swim three times a week. I have a lot more than six months left.
