My family has confronted long-term care twice in 2 separate generations. These experiences influenced me to choose a career in long-term care planning and to write this book. These experiences are not uncommon: millions of other American families will face similar scenarios in the coming decades.
      I was raised in a traditional American family. As I grew up, I dreamed of going into business for myself, or maybe even buying the small company my grandfather owned. He had built a successful business that supported many of his family members for several decades.
      By the late 1970s, when my grandfather was 72, we began to notice a slight change in his mental alertness. Since he appeared to be managing the company without any problems, we paid little attention to it at first. But we began to take it seriously when we received complaints from his suppliers about late invoice payments. Then one day, we got a call from a close family friend and the owner of one of the businesses that supplied his materials. "Allen," he said, "your grandfather's check just bounced." There was shock in his voice, and a dead silence on my end of the phone. My grandfather had always been meticulous about keeping his accounts organized.
      Over the next few months, my family was subjected to a painful series of discoveries about the state of my grandfather's mental health and his company's finances. We learned that he was suffering from the early onset of Alzheimer's Disease. The condition was causing him to slowly lose control of both his personal life and his business affairs. By the time we discovered the true dimensions of his problems, it was too late. His once thriving company was in financial trouble.
      Within two years of his diagnosis, my grandfather required a level of long-term care our family could no longer provide at home. We contacted Medicare, expecting that as a hard-working American businessman who had made a positive contribution to society and the economy, he would be well covered for whatever medical and custodial care services he might require. What we learned was almost as upsetting as our original discoveries: neither his Medicare nor his Medicare Supplement policy offered coverage for long-term custodial care. And although he had lost most of his assets in the demise of his business, he still had too much money to qualify for Medicaid, the welfare program.
      Prior to my grandfather's health problems, my parents had been diligently saving for an early retirement. But after my grandfather's mental and financial decline, they were forced to cash in their retirement savings to fund quality care for my grandfather. He spent the last four years of his life in a private pay nursing home.
      After the loss of my grandfather's business, I pondered my family's lack of knowledge about long-term care planning. How could we know so much about most financial issues, but know so little about such a critical part of the financial and estate planning process? I became intensely interested in the subject of long-term care and how our country funds this growing problem.
      In the mid-1980's, I moved to California—something that I had been considering for several years. Moving 2,000 miles away from my family was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made. Dad had always been my mentor. Strong, wise, and patient, he had always been able to say or do just the right thing at the right moment. He had never been wealthy, but he taught us family values and the importance of planning for our financial future. As an adult, I admired his positive attitude and tenacity, especially after experiencing adversity and set-backs. Slowly, with hard work and integrity, he built a separate company of his own. Inspired by his example, and the tragedy that long-term care brought to my grandfather's last years, I fulfilled my own dream of starting a business—a company that specializes in assisting people with planning ahead for long-term care before the need arises.
      After becoming a specialist in long-term care planning, I worked with my parents' financial advisor to evaluate LTC Planning options that would be suitable for their situation. After experiencing my grandfather's long-term care situation, I didn't expect my parents to react enthusiastically to a conversation about their own potential need for long-term care. Few parents want to talk with their children about the possibility of becoming dependent on someone else or requiring assistance with their physical care. However, we all agreed that it made sense to put plans in place that would give them choices we didn't have with my grandfather—plans that would protect the assets they had worked so hard to rebuild after his need for care. They chose LTC insurance as their option, and I returned to California pleasantly surprised that they had agreed to plan ahead with no resistance.
      About three years after his LTC insurance policy went into effect, my father was diagnosed with mild Parkinson's Disease. Had he been diagnosed years earlier or waited longer to purchase LTC insurance, he would not have been able to obtain coverage. As we'll explain later in this book, the ability to obtain LTC insurance is based on a person's health at the time they apply for coverage, and a person with Parkinson's Disease will not qualify for coverage.
      My father was in his mid-60s when his symptoms started with a slight tremor in his left arm. The prognosis was progressive neurological deterioration and, over a period of years, severe physical and cognitive disabilities could be expected. But in the short term, he remained active with his family, business, and church, and our hopes were high that a cure for Parkinson's Disease would be found within his lifetime.
      Busy with my own family and running our company, I tried to keep an objective eye on Dad's condition with frequent phone calls from 2,000 miles away. Fortunately, my brother lives in the same area as my parents, and is also able to keep me updated on Dad's physical and mental health.
      During my semi-annual visits, I noticed that physically, his tremor seemed to be slowly getting worse. I respected him too much to pry into his psychological health, but my frequent calls allowed me to monitor his mood for signs of depression or fatigue. By this time, my experience in handling several LTC insurance claims made me well aware of the signs of many types of health conditions, particularly mental and neurological disorders.
      Shortly before Dad turned 70, my wife, two sons and I attended an eagerly anticipated family reunion. Seeing him for the first time in almost a year, Dad seemed unusually tired and melancholy. Even his grandsons failed to spark his usual enthusiasm. Concerned about him, I suggested that the two of us have a private talk in the backyard. We sat down at an old picnic table where we'd had many family cookouts and private talks. I asked him to open up to me.
      His eyes began to water, something I'd never seen. He's a warm person, but has always been very much in control of his emotions. He looked away and began to talk.
      "Your mom doesn't know, and I don't know how to tell her. Or even you...but here goes...I'm in debt. We're on the verge of losing everything. We're behind on our house payment and the rental property mortgages. The banks are no longer willing to finance our projects. When I was diagnosed with Parkinson's, I knew that I only had a short period of time to get your mother set-up, to make sure she wouldn't have to worry once the Parkinson's took control. I rushed with some major business decisions; I made some missteps; I took on too many projects. I've lost control of where we are financially."
      At first, I couldn't accept what he was telling me. I tried to reassure him, the way he had always reassured me. We were in the family backyard, at our familiar picnic table, but I felt as disconnected as if I were watching a movie or having a bad dream. I felt a certain level of panic, followed by—I'm ashamed to say—a sense of betrayal. Could this be my mentor, the man I had always looked up to, allowing something to get so out of control? And how could we repeat something so shockingly familiar to what we had been through years earlier with my grandfather?
      It was a heartbreaking moment, magnified by the realization and the fear of what could happen to any of us, including me. In the midst of all those overwhelming emotions, there was not as much comfort as I had expected in knowing that he had a written plan for long-term care, with an LTC insurance policy in force. As much as the coverage will spare us from the financial consequences of a future long-term care need, I realized for a second time that the worst part of this issue called "aging" is the emotional side—watching how it humbles the people we love, and how it often affects their ability to be as emotionally and rationally strong as they had been in the past.
      Several years have passed since that afternoon when I learned once again how fast life can change. Fortunately, these past few years have been good to our family: my dad's Parkinson's has progressed more slowly. And after developing a plan of action as a family, the worst of his financial problems have also been resolved. They still have their rental property, although the family home had to be sold. He has yet to collect a dime on his LTC insurance policy, as he is very fond of reminding me. The last time we visited him, he seemed like his old self again. Naturally, I still worry about the way Parkinson's will affect his future. But we feel very blessed that he is still able to live an independent and productive life.
      My family's experiences are ones that many families are experiencing this very minute. And these types of experiences will continue to affect families in the coming decades, as we learn to respond to this ever-increasing problem of the new health care crisis called long-term care.