My Children Sold My House and Put Me in a Nursing Home, So I Broke Out and Settled the Score — Story of the Day

I walked out the back door of the nursing home with nothing but bus fare and a handbag. My children had said I was confused, but they just didn't like what I did with my land. So they locked me away, sold my house, and cleared out the women I was helping. That's when I started planning payback.

I tried escaping from the nursing home the easy way first — through the front door. I was just reaching for the door handle when a voice called out behind me.

"Ma'am, you're not allowed to leave without an escort."

The young woman at the front desk said it gently, the way you'd speak to a child. She had kind eyes. I almost felt bad about what I was going to do.

"Oh, of course, dear. Thank you for reminding me."

I smiled at her as I retraced my steps, then I turned the corner, pushed through the back door, and walked straight out into the world I'd been stolen from.

I glanced back once, just to make sure no one was chasing me yet, and kept walking.

I caught the city bus three blocks down, the one that runs to the outskirts of town. I watched the familiar sights of the city pass by as I thought back to the family lunch two weeks ago when everything had changed.

***

It was a perfect afternoon. I felt so lucky, sitting on the porch with my children, thinking about all the years we'd had together.

That's when I told them I'd updated my will.

"I've made Lauren my medical power of attorney," I said. "Just in case anything happens. My house and the cottages I've built will go into a trust after I pass. I want my little housing project for women who need a fresh start to continue after I'm gone."

The table went quiet; not the comfortable kind of quiet — the other kind.

Brian cleared his throat. "You mean strangers get the land, not your own family?"

"They're not strangers," I said. "They're women from this community who needed a place to start over. You can't imagine what they've been through. They need this more than anyone else."

Lauren didn't say anything, but she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

One week later, Lauren insisted on taking me for a routine checkup. The doctor smiled kindly and asked if I'd been forgetting things, if I ever lost track of time, or felt disoriented.

Before I could answer, Lauren jumped in.

"She called me twice last month for our Sunday chat," she said, frowning worriedly. "The second time, she didn’t even remember the first."

I blinked. "What? No, I didn't!"

Lauren gave the doctor the soft, pitying look children give when they're "being patient" with their elderly parents.

More questions followed, which I answered honestly. Yes, I forgot things sometimes; yes, I felt anxious occasionally; and no, I didn't always eat properly.

Next thing I knew, I was being admitted to a nursing home for observation. My phone disappeared, my mail stopped coming, and when I asked questions, I got vague answers and patronizing smiles.

Realizing that Lauren had tricked me broke my heart, but once I accepted it as fact, I started making escape plans.

I pretended to be the confused old woman they needed me to be, and then I walked out that back door.

***

The bus dropped me three blocks from my property. I walked the rest of the way.

I truly believed I'd get home, get my own doctor to clear up the nonsense about my supposed cognitive decline, and carry on with my life, but those thoughts vanished when I reached my home on the outskirts of town.

I stared in shock at the red "SOLD" sign nailed right into my lawn like a flag planted on conquered territory. Lauren and Brian (he must've been in on this) hadn't just locked me away; they'd sold my house from under me!

I hurried up the drive and pushed open the front door.

Inside, there was nothing. No kitchen table where we'd eaten a thousand meals, no photos on the walls, not even the frayed rug in the hallway that I'd tripped over daily and refused to replace because it had been my mother's.

Tears rolled down my face as I wandered from room to room. These walls had held my entire adult life, and my kids' childhoods.

How could they throw that away? Why would they do this to me?

I stared out a window at the small field at the back of the property. Lauren's pony had once lived there, but now it contained the five cottages I'd built to help homeless women in the community.

The cottages were dark. The thought of Lauren and Brian evicting those poor women made me even angrier than what they'd done to me.

Then a light flicked on in one cottage. Carmen was still there!

I was growing tired, but I crossed the yard as fast as I could and knocked on the door.

"Carmen! Please open up."

The door flew open. Carmen looked at me like she couldn't believe her eyes, and then she hugged me.

"You're really here," she said. "I've been so worried… Quickly, let's get inside."

She pulled me inside and shut the door.

"What happened here?" I asked. "Where's everyone else?"

Carmen shrugged. "Your kids came like wrecking balls. They told us you had dementia, and they had power of attorney. They cleared out the big house and told us we had to leave."

Carmen went to her small table and pulled out a crumpled paper.

"This was pinned to my door." She handed it to me.

"Demolition inspection scheduled" was printed at the top. I shook my head and passed it back to her.

"The power of attorney I gave Lauren was medical only," I said. "She used it to lock me up in a nursing home, but she can't use it to sell my home, unless…"

A horrifying thought dawned on me then. They must've used whatever report they got from that doctor to file for emergency conservatorship! They'd used my own planning against me.

They must've decided they'd rather sell the house than see it go into the trust to protect vulnerable women.

I sank into a chair. My kids had their flaws, like all people, but to think they would do such a terrible thing… where had I gone wrong with them? Had I failed to teach them right from wrong?

"What do we do now?" Carmen asked, interrupting my melancholy thoughts.

I looked out the window, where that red SOLD sign was just visible in the dusk.

"We take it all back."

The next morning, I used Carmen's phone to call my lawyer. Harold had handled my affairs for 20 years. He knew I wasn't incompetent.

I told him everything. He listened quietly, then told me he'd call me back.

Two hours later, Carmen's phone rang.

"Emergency conservatorship was filed based on questionable mental health claims," Harold said.

"But here's the good news. The title transfer hasn't gone through. The escrow agent flagged an inconsistency in the POA paperwork. They're waiting for clarification."

Harold filed an emergency motion to freeze the sale and challenge the conservatorship. He said we had a good case.

***

That evening, I heard tires on gravel. That familiar crunch used to make me happy because it meant my kids were visiting, but now it made my stomach clench.

I watched from the window as Lauren and Brian climbed out of a silver SUV. They started calling my name like we were playing hide and seek.

"She wouldn't just disappear," Lauren said. "She must've come back here."

They stood in the yard, talking. I should have hunkered down where they wouldn't find me, but I needed to hear what they were saying. I needed to know if there was any part of my children left that I recognized.

I nodded to Carmen. We crept out through her back door and snuck into the main house.

"If we can get her to sign a full POA, we can clean this up," Brian said, his voice carrying clearly through the front window. "The buyer's still on the hook. We just need a signature."

"You really think she's gonna hand over her house now?" Lauren asked.

"It's not like we did something evil. What she was doing here, sure, it's noble, but charity begins at home, right? You want to buy a house, and I've got debts. Selling this place lets us both live our dreams."

Lauren sighed. "Right. We're not villains. You tried to talk sense into her during that lunch, but she wouldn't listen. We had to intervene."

I'd heard enough. I went to the front door and stepped outside.

"You're both wrong. What you did was evil, and you are villains."

You should have seen their faces. Lauren went pale. Brian straightened up like he was about to argue.

"You used my good planning to trick me, locked me away, stole everything from my home, and tried to sell it without my consent. In what world does that make you good people?"

"Mom," Lauren started.

"Don't call me that right now, and don't think you'll get away with this. My lawyer is already building a case, and we've recorded everything you said."

I signaled behind me. Carmen stepped out, her phone held up.

That's when I heard the sirens.

"You called the cops on your own children?" Brian asked.

"I called the cops on a pair of thieves," I replied. "The fact they're also my children just adds hurt to the injustice."

***

A few weeks later, I sat in a courtroom while Harold laid out the evidence before a judge. It didn't take long before the conservatorship was ruled invalid and the house sale was voided.

Lauren and Brian were officially under investigation for elder exploitation.

I didn't feel victorious as I headed home, just tired and heartbroken.

The red SOLD sign was gone, and Harold had assured me he'd start finalizing the trust paperwork immediately.

The land was mine again, and my housing initiative was back in operation. Two of the women who'd been evicted had returned, and one of them brought a woman she'd befriended at the shelter.

I might've lost my children, but I was leaving behind a legacy that mattered.

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This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.