When my mom checked herself out of the rehabilitation center again, I was ready to give up on her. For eighteen months she’d been struggling with serious health problems—emphysema, chronic kidney disease, exhaustion—and had been rushed to the emergency room three times. Each time, doctors stabilized her and sent her to a short-term rehabilitation facility to regain her strength, but she refused to stay. After a few days, she’d return home, resume drinking and smoking cigarettes, and within a month or two would need to return to the ER and start the whole process over again. It was painful to watch her suffer, and I was frustrated, angry, and desperate for her to listen to me, stay and let the medical team help her heal, and acknowledge that she needed help.
I spoke with her doctors and close friends, and they all told me the same thing: There was nothing I could do. My mom was a mentally competent adult, legally able to make her own choices, even if they...





