I visited my father-in-law at his care facility and immediately noticed his room was freezing. When I complained, staff told me his daughter—his legal medical proxy—had ordered them not to turn on the heat unless it dropped below 50°, claiming he “liked it cold,” even though his arthritis made him miserable in low temperatures.

I refused to leave him like that. I brought blankets, a space heater, warm socks, and a heated throw, stayed overnight, and then confronted the director, calling it neglect. Because I wasn’t on his legal paperwork, they said their hands were tied.

So I gathered evidence. I found an old letter where my father-in-law said he trusted me to make decisions if anything happened. With a lawyer’s help, I documented everything daily—room temperature, his condition, meals, and even a logged call where his daughter tried to block my visits. We filed to challenge her proxy status.

She raged, but during the hearings staff confirmed her instructions harmed him. The turning point was a voicemail where she said she’d be fine if he “passed soon” because she was tired of paying. When my father-in-law had a lucid day, he told the judge he wanted me as his decision-maker. The judge removed Diane and granted me medical proxy.

After that, he moved to a bright, warm room, had proper care, and spent his final months comfortable and respected. He died peacefully, leaving a note thanking me for keeping him warm—and joking that his spare change should go to cookies for the nurses. His daughter never attended the memorial, and I didn’t chase her.

Now I volunteer at the nursing home, because I learned that cruelty is often quiet—and sometimes simply showing up is what saves someone.