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Requests For Home Care Services Continue To Increase Across Country

As many families gathered for the holidays this past year, bringing out-of-towners to celebrate with their aging parents and loved ones, Home Instead services have been requested at a higher rate than a year ago.

According to a Home Instead Inc. Survey in January, one out of five Americans saw a noticeable decline in their aging loved one's well-being while together for the holidays.

The survey also found that more than 90% of older adults want to age in their own home for as long as possible, which becomes challenging, and often dangerous, as cognitive and mobility changes occur with aging.

"It's important that families look for and recognize these changes when spending time with the older adults they love," Lakelyn Hogan Eichenberger, gerontologist and caregiver advocate for Home Instead Inc., an Honor Company, said in a prepared statement. "In our survey, one out of three people said they noticed changes but will wait to see if they get worse before doing anything to help. We urge families to act immediately if they notice someone is not quite as capable as they used to be, and ensure they are set up to safely thrive at home."

Home Instead Cape Coral office owner John Ruehle said they have been open for 17 years this July serving the Cape Coral and North Fort Myers area. He said they have 63 care pros on staff and five folks that work in the office.

With the baby boomers getting older, as well as the heavy demand and influx of people seeking help, Ruehle said they could use another 25 to 30 care pros on the staff.

"We are definitely in need of more care pros willing and wanting to help seniors in need," Ruehle said. "The more care pros we have the more people we can reach. We have quite a few clients – always open for more. We don't want to just hire 100 care pros tomorrow – we want the right people to make good matches."

The website, homeinstead.Com, is the best place to go to fill out a questionnaire so the recruiter can schedule an interview. Individuals are also welcome to call the direct line at 239-541-4133.

"One of our biggest things with recruitment efforts is we don't require certifications of any kind. Experience is great, it is not a requirement because we have paid ongoing training," he said, adding that they will walk them through everything they need to know to succeed.

"Even if you have been experienced, you might come across someone with a certain illness, disease or physical disability. With over 17 years, there is not much we haven't seen. We have been in most situations. It is comforting to know there is back-office support to go out there with you," he said.

He said with Cape Coral being very seasonal, a good number of their clientele have families that do not live in the area, but rather up north, resulting in a lot of calls from their kids. Home Instead clientele also come from referrals from providers in the area – hospitals, case managers and assisted living.

"We are available 24/7. We get calls throughout the day. In January we received three times as many phone calls for service than the year before," Ruehle said.

That increase stems from children coming down for the holiday and noticing a significant difference in their parents, leading them to seek a service to provide them with help.

One of the best services offered by Home Instead is companionship.

"Someone is there with you, someone to chat with," he said.

Services can also include meal preparation, light cleaning and laundry.

"We tailor every service plan towards the client. Not everybody needs help with a shower. Where they might need help – taking them to the doctor, or grocery store," Ruehle said.

To tailor the services needed, a care consultation is provided before service begins.

"It depends on the person and how willing they are to share what goes on in their daily life. We take that and tailor it," he said. "The care pros go into it open minded because everyone is different, and they have to adjust to that person."

In addition to the care pros, Ruehle said they work with the whole care team – families, neighbors, doctors. He said they work alongside Hospice, nurses, and occupational and physical therapists.

"We work with everybody to develop the best plan for each client," he said, adding that they work as little as three days a week or 12 hours a week. "Anything less than that they don't get the value of the services offered."

Anita Farren joined Home Instead four years ago, as she has been taking care of people her whole life. She obtained her physical therapy degree but does not have a license.

"There was a car accident, father died and then COVID happened. Everything was nuts for a while. Meanwhile I still needed to pay the bills. My husband suggested this," Farren said, as he told her she was good with people, compassionate and patient. "Home Instead was the first place I called."

She said the job has become very rewarding, as she is another set of eyes and ears looking after someone to ensure their well-being.

"You go in with an open mind and positive attitude. You are a guest in their home, and you actively watch and listen to what needs to be done and you find ways to address the needs, or find resources to help those needs if it is out of the scope of what I can do," Farren said.

The help she provides runs the gamut from working with people with disabilities, helping with hygiene, transferring a client from one spot to another, to providing companionship so someone is not alone.

She said if she notices any changes she alerts the company, and the relatives.

"If nobody cares about you, you lose motivation and interest. If someone is around that sees you on a regular basis, you will thrive more," Farren said. "You become a part of the family most of the time. I have met some of the most wonderful, beautiful people in this job. They are so grateful to have hep, they treat me like family and that is the most wonderful thing."

She said it is rewarding when she sees something or has done something to make a dramatic difference or impact.

"Actions create a ripple effect. Families have more quality time with their parents and siblings," Farren said. "Some of the bonds I have made with the clients have changed my life because they taught me things I wouldn't have learned in other situations."

Why Long-term Care Insurance Falls Short For So Many

For 35 years, Angela Jemmott and her five brothers paid premiums on a long-term care insurance policy for their 91-year-old mother. But the policy does not cover home health aides whose assistance allows her to stay in her Sacramento, California, bungalow, near the friends and neighbors she loves. Her family pays $4,000 a month for that.

"We want her to stay in her house," Jemmott said. "That's what's probably keeping her alive, because she's in her element, not in a strange place."

The private insurance market has proved wildly inadequate in providing financial security for most of the millions of older Americans who might need home health aides, assisted living, or other types of assistance with daily living.

For decades, the industry severely underestimated how many policyholders would use their coverage, how long they would live, and how much their care would cost.

And as Jemmott belatedly discovered, the older generation of plans — those from the 1980s — often covered only nursing homes.

Only 3% to 4% of Americans 50 and older pay for a long-term care policy, according to LIMRA, an insurance marketing and research association. That stands in stark contrast to federal estimates that 70% of people 65 and older will need critical services before they die.

Repeated government efforts to create a functioning market for long-term care insurance — or to provide public alternatives — have never taken hold. Today, most insurers have stopped selling stand-alone long-term care policies: The ones that still exist are too expensive for most people. And they have become less affordable each year, with insurers raising premiums higher and higher. Many policyholders face painful choices to pay more, pare benefits, or drop coverage altogether.

"It's a giant bait-and-switch," said Laura Lunceford, 69, of Sandy, Utah, whose annual premium with her husband leaped to more than $5,700 in 2019 from less than $3,800. Her stomach knots up a couple of months before the next premium is due, as she fears another spike. "They had a business model that just wasn't sustainable from the get-go," she said. "Why they didn't know that is beyond me, but now we're getting punished for their lack of foresight."

Bryan Meltz

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The New York Times

"We want her to stay in her house," Angela Jemmott says of her mother, Jewell Thomas. "That's what's probably keeping her alive, because she's in her element, not in a strange place."

The glaring gaps in access to coverage persist despite steady increases in overall payouts. Last year, insurers paid more than $13 billion to cover 345,000 long-term care claims, according to industry figures. Many policyholders and their relatives reported that their plans helped them avert financial catastrophes when they faced long-term care costs that would have otherwise eviscerated their savings.

But others have been startled to learn that policies they paid into over decades will not fully cover the escalating present-day costs of home health aides, assisted living facilities, or nursing homes. And in other cases, people entitled to benefits confront lengthy response times to coverage requests or outright denials, according to records kept by the National Association of Insurance Commissioners, the organization of state regulators.

Jesse Slome, executive director of the American Association for Long-Term Care Insurance, an industry trade group, said long-term care was the most challenging type of insurance to manage. "You need multiple crystal balls," Slome said. "And you have to look 20 years into the future and be right."

The pandemic paused a long-term decline

The industry's wobbly finances haven't steadied despite a brief profitable surge during the coronavirus pandemic. Earnings rose because thousands of people who were drawing benefits, many in nursing homes or assisted living facilities, died from covid-19, and other policyholders died before using their insurance. Others stopped tapping their benefits because they fled facilities and went to live with their families, who provided unpaid care.

Overall, earnings went from $2.3 billion in losses in 2019 to two years of profits totaling $1.1 billion, before receding into the red in 2022 by losing $304 million, according to Fitch Ratings.

Still, none of that was enough to reverse the industry's long-term decline. Doug Baker, a director in Fitch's U.S. Life insurance group, said long-term care insurance "is one of the riskiest in our universe" because of the lingering financial burden from underestimating the number of people who would tap their policies.

More insurers now offer hybrid plans that combine life insurance with long-term care. Those policies are less generous than the ones offered a decade ago — and using the long-term care benefit drains some or all of the money policyholders hoped to leave to their heirs.

"I don't think people will offer unlimited again," said Tom McInerney, the chief executive of Genworth Financial, which suspended selling plans through brokers in 2019. "One way or another, taxpayers are going to have to pay more for long-term care needs of the baby boomers."

Many experts believe it's untenable to expect that a private insurance market can protect most people from the growing burden of long-term care costs.

"The whole situation is poorly suited to that kind of insurance offering," said Robert Saldin, a political science professor at the University of Montana who studies the industry.

Falling profits and skyrocketing premiums

Shuran Huang

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The New York Times

Ann Kempski at her home in Maryland where her mother, Alice Kempski, moved in during the pandemic. Alice Kempski had paid premiums on a long-term care insurance policy for 16 years, but when the family tried to file a claim, they discovered that the company was insolvent.

Starting in the 1970s, long-term care insurance was touted as a way to keep older people from eroding their retirement savings or resorting to Medicaid, the state-federal program for the poor and disabled. Early plans were limited to nursing home care but later expanded to cover in-home care and assisted living centers. Sales of the policies doubled from 1990 to 2002.

As demand grew, however, there were signs the industry had vastly miscalculated the cost of its products. Insurers set early policy prices competitively low, based on actuarial models that turned out to be markedly inaccurate. Forecasters' estimates of policyholders' longevity were wrong. U.S. Life expectancy increased to nearly 77 years in 2000 from about 68 years in 1950, federal records show. And as people lived longer, their need for care increased.

Industry officials also failed to account for the behavior of savvy consumers determined to keep their long-term care coverage. Insurers counted on policy lapse rates — people giving up their policies or defaulting on payments — of about 4% annually. The actual lapse rate was closer to 1%.

As the miscalculations sent profits plummeting, insurers raised premiums or exited the market. By 2020, sales of traditional policies had dropped to 49,000 and the number of carriers offering plans had fallen to fewer than a dozen from more than 100.

Premiums for some consumers doubled in just a year or two. Three class-action lawsuits accused Genworth of failing to disclose to policyholders that it had planned multiyear rate increases, leaving them without information they needed to decide whether to keep their policies. Genworth settled the lawsuits with offers to allow customers to adjust their policies, and in some cases it paid cash damage to those who accepted reduced benefits. The company did not admit wrongdoing.

The increases continue. AM Best, a rating agency, said in a report last November that Genworth "will continue to need annual rate increases for at least several more years to reach economic break-even."

Prices for new policies have jumped, too. A decade ago, a couple aged 55 could expect to pay about $3,725 a year for a policy that included $162,000 in total benefits and 3% annual inflation protection, according to the American Association for Long-Term Care Insurance. Today, a policy that is virtually the same would cost $5,025, 35% more, even as rising health costs and inflation have eroded the value of the benefits.

And that's only for the people who can qualify. To limit their losses, insurers have narrowed the eligible pool of clients. In 2021, about 30% of applicants ages 60 to 64 were denied long-term care insurance. For applicants 70 to 74, the rejection rate was 47%. Even among people in their 50s, more than 1 in 5 were turned down. Chronic health conditions, a history of stroke or diabetes, or psychiatric illness may all be grounds for disqualification.

At the same time, insurers began scrutinizing claims more closely. "They tightened their belts," said Alan Kassan, a senior partner with the California law firm Kantor & Kantor, which represents clients challenging denials. "Then they tightened their claim administration and started denying claims more and more."

In 2022, the proportion of traditional long-term care claim denials varied, from 4.5% in Rhode Island to 9.6% in Alaska, according to the National Association of Insurance Commissioners.

Despite efforts to limit liability, financial problems forced several high-profile insurance providers to drastically revise policy terms and premiums or go into insolvency, affecting the investments of thousands of clients.

They included Alice Kempski, a retired nurse who, after her husband died, bought a policy from the insurance company Penn Treaty and American Network in 2004 on the advice of a financial adviser, paying premiums of $180 a month for 16 years. By 2017, she was hobbled by osteoporosis and was struggling to manage her multiple medications, according to her daughter, Ann Kempski. She sold the family home in Wilmington, Delaware, in 2017 and, now needing help bathing, moved to an assisted living center there. But when the family tried to file a claim, they discovered that Penn Treaty was insolvent and the policy had been taken over by the Pennsylvania state insurance guaranty fund.

The fund had frozen Kempski's benefits and increased her premiums to about $280 a month, her daughter said. Her doctor told Penn that she had "mild dementia" and osteoporosis and should be in an assisted living facility. But the insurer said that there was not enough evidence that she needed help with two daily living activities or had severe cognitive impairment, conditions that would trigger coverage, according to correspondence between Kempski and the company.

Kempski was paying roughly $5,400 a month out-of-pocket to the assisted living center. She moved in with her daughter when the pandemic hit, but she continued to pay full rent to the facility to save her spot until she returned in 2021. In March of that year, when her daughter was preparing to refile a claim for long-term care insurance and her premiums had reached $320 a month, Kempski had a massive stroke. She died the next month. The insurer never paid for any of her care.

Coverage in a facility but not at home

Bryan Meltz

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The New York Times

Jewell Thomas' children jointly pay about $4,000 a month for two home health aides, while still paying her long-term care insurance premium of more than $2,500 a year.

The policy held by Angela Jemmott's mother, Jewell Thomas, went unused for a different reason: Like many older policies, it covered only skilled nursing care in a facility. Her children had purchased the policy after Thomas' husband died at 56.

But decades later, once Thomas developed dementia in her 80s, her children realized how desperately their mother wanted to stay home. Jemmott said they tried to add a rider to the policy to cover home care but were told that their mother's age (older than 75) barred add-ons. Now the siblings jointly pay about $4,000 a month for two home health aides, while still paying the insurance premium of more than $2,500 a year. "We feel like if we stop paying it, another unforeseen need will arise and cause us to wish we kept it," Jemmott said.

Not all policyholders are displeased.

Bert Minushkin, of Royal Palm Beach, Florida, paid monthly premiums for 27 years, beginning in 1993 when the policy was offered as a benefit by Westinghouse Electric Corp., where he worked as a nuclear engineer. Over time, he paid about $120,000 toward the policy, said his daughter Lisa Heffley, 61, of Louisville, Kentucky.

Diagnosed with dementia, Minushkin began declining swiftly in 2019. His wife spent $220,000 on assisted living facilities and private aides for him over three years, with about $90,000 of the cost offset by his policy, Heffley said. He died in February 2022 at age 91.

"He didn't break even, but thank God he had it," she said.

Turning to crowdfunding

Shuran Huang

/

The New York Times

Without warning, Jeffrey Tanck had to assume charge of his father's care, moving him into an assisted living center, and get his mother into a skilled nursing facility.

Many experts say what's needed is a government-subsidized or public program that requires people to carry long-term care insurance, as the Netherlands and Singapore have. But federal efforts to create such a system, including the CLASS Act, which was repealed in 2013, and the WISH Act, introduced in 2021, have failed to gain traction in Congress. At the state level, Washington this summer started a first-in-the-nation program that will provide long-term care benefits for residents who pay into a fund, but the maximum benefit of $36,500 will not cover a year in most assisted living facilities.

Lack of a safety net leaves some people unprotected, like Jeffrey Tanck, a real estate broker in Washington, D.C. In 2021, his mother, Sue Tanck, at 75, suffered a serious fall, leaving her with broken arms and a traumatic brain injury. She had been the primary caretaker for his father, Roger, then 77, who had rapidly worsening dementia.

Without warning, Jeffrey Tanck had to assume charge of his father's care, moving him into an assisted living center in Ocala, Florida, that now charges $4,600 a month, and had to get his mother into a skilled nursing facility paid for by Medicaid. With no money to cover his father's costs until he sold their house, Tanck resorted to a plea on the crowdfunding site GoFundMe.

Wanting to shield himself from a similar financial crisis somewhere down the road, Tanck, who is 51, applied for long-term care insurance, only to be denied. The reason? He takes antidepressants, which help him cope with the anxiety and stress of caring for his parents.

"What are people supposed to do?" Tanck asked. "I'm going to need something."

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.Subscribe to KFF Health News' free Morning Briefing.

Facing Financial Ruin As Costs Soar For Elder Care

Margaret Newcomb, 69, a retired French teacher, is desperately trying to protect her retirement savings by caring for her 82-year-old husband, who has severe dementia, at home in Seattle. She used to fear his disease-induced paranoia, but now he's so frail and confused that he wanders away with no idea of how to find his way home. He gets lost so often that she attaches a tag to his shoelace with her phone number.

Feylyn Lewis, 35, sacrificed a promising career as a research director in England to return home to Nashville after her mother had a debilitating stroke. They ran up $15,000 in medical and credit card debt while she took on the role of caretaker.

Sheila Littleton, 30, brought her grandfather with dementia to her family home in Houston, then spent months fruitlessly trying to place him in a nursing home with Medicaid coverage. She eventually abandoned him at a psychiatric hospital to force the system to act.

"That was terrible," she said. "I had to do it."

Millions of families are facing such daunting life choices — and potential financial ruin — as the escalating costs of in-home care, assisted living facilities, and nursing homes devour the savings and incomes of older Americans and their relatives.

"People are exposed to the possibility of depleting almost all their wealth," said Richard Johnson, director of the program on retirement policy at the Urban Institute.

The prospect of dying broke looms as an imminent threat for the boomer generation, which vastly expanded the middle class and looked hopefully toward a comfortable retirement on the backbone of 401(k)s and pensions. Roughly 10,000 of them will turn 65 every day until 2030, expecting to live into their 80s and 90s as the price tag for long-term care explodes, outpacing inflation and reaching a half-trillion dollars a year, according to federal researchers.

The challenges will only grow. By 2050, the population of Americans 65 and older is projected to increase by more than 50%, to 86 million, according to census estimates. The number of people 85 or older will nearly triple to 19 million.

The United States has no coherent system of long-term care, mostly a patchwork. The private market, where a minuscule portion of families buy long-term care insurance, has shriveled, reduced over years of giant rate hikes by insurers that had underestimated how much care people would actually use. Labor shortages have left families searching for workers willing to care for their elders in the home. And the cost of a spot in an assisted living facility has soared to an unaffordable level for most middle-class Americans. They have to run out of money to qualify for nursing home care paid for by the government.

For an examination of the crisis in long-term care, The New York Times and KFF Health News interviewed families across the nation as they struggled to obtain care; examined companies that provide it; and analyzed data from the federally funded Health and Retirement Study, the most authoritative national survey of older people about their long-term care needs and financial resources.

About 8 million people 65 and older reported that they had dementia or difficulty with basic daily tasks like bathing and feeding themselves — and nearly 3 million of them had no assistance at all, according to an analysis of the survey data. Most people relied on spouses, children, grandchildren, or friends.

The United States devotes a smaller share of its gross domestic product to long-term care than do most other wealthy countries, including Britain, France, Canada, Germany, Sweden, and Japan, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development. The United States lags its international peers in another way: It dedicates far less of its overall health spending toward long-term care.

"We just don't value elders the way that other countries and other cultures do," said Rachel Werner, executive director of the Leonard Davis Institute of Health Economics at the University of Pennsylvania. "We don't have a financing and insurance system for long-term care," she said. "There isn't the political will to spend that much money."

Most countries spend more than the United States on care, but middle-class and affluent people still bear a substantial portion of the costs.

Despite medical advances that have added years to the average life span and allowed people to survive decades more after getting cancer or suffering from heart disease or strokes, federal long-term care for older people has not fundamentally changed in the decades since President Lyndon Johnson signed Medicare and Medicaid into law in 1965. From 1960 to 2021, the number of Americans age 85 and older increased at more than six times the rate of the general population, according to census records.

Medicare, the federal health insurance program for Americans 65 and older, covers the costs of medical care, but generally pays for a home aide or a stay in a nursing home only for a limited time during a recovery from a surgery or a fall or for short-term rehabilitation.

Medicaid, the federal-state program, covers long-term care, usually in a nursing home, but only for the poor. Middle-class people must exhaust their assets to qualify, forcing them to sell much of their property and to empty their bank accounts. If they go into a nursing home, they are permitted to keep a pittance of their retirement income: $50 or less a month in a majority of states. And spouses can hold onto only a modest amount of income and assets, often leaving their children and grandchildren to shoulder some of the financial burden.

Arin Yoon

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The New York Times

Gay Glenn moved to Kansas from Chicago four years ago to oversee her mother's care and finances.

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Gay Glenn visits her mother and brother in a nursing home in Kansas.

Arin Yoon / The New York Times

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Gay Glenn visits her mother and brother in a nursing home in Kansas.

Arin Yoon / The New York Times

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Gay Glenn sold her mother's house shortly before her mother died in October. Her estate still has to repay Medicaid about $20,000 from the proceeds.

Arin Yoon / The New York Times

"You basically want people to destitute themselves and then you take everything else that they have," said Gay Glenn, whose mother lived in a nursing home in Kansas until she died in October at age 96.

Her mother, Betty Mae Glenn, had to spend down her savings, paying the home more than $10,000 a month, until she qualified for Medicaid. Glenn, 61, relocated from Chicago to Topeka more than four years ago, moving into one of her mother's two rental properties and overseeing her care and finances.

Under the state Medicaid program's byzantine rules, she had to pay rent to her mother, and that income went toward her mother's care. Glenn sold the family's house just before her mother's death in October. Her lawyer told her the estate had to pay Medicaid back about $20,000 from the proceeds.

A play she wrote about her relationship with her mother, titled "If You See Panic in My Eyes," was read this year at a theater festival.

At any given time, skilled nursing homes house roughly 630,000 older residents whose average age is about 77, according to recent estimates. A long-term resident's care can easily cost more than $100,000 a year without Medicaid coverage at these institutions, which are supposed to provide round-the-clock nursing coverage.

Nine in 10 people said it would be impossible or very difficult to pay that much, according to a KFF public opinion poll conducted during the pandemic.

Eric Harkleroad

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KFF Health News

Efforts to create a national long-term care system have repeatedly collapsed. Democrats have argued that the federal government needs to take a much stronger hand in subsidizing care. The Biden administration sought to improve wages and working conditions for paid caregivers. But a $150 billion proposal in the Build Back Better Act for in-home and community-based services under Medicaid was dropped to lower the price tag of the final legislation.

"This is an issue that's coming to the front door of members of Congress," said Sen. Bob Casey, a Pennsylvania Democrat and chair of the Senate Special Committee on Aging. "No matter where you're representing — if you're representing a blue state or red state — families are not going to settle for just having one option," he said, referring to nursing homes funded under Medicaid. "The federal government has got to do its part, which it hasn't."

But leading Republicans in Congress say the federal government cannot be expected to step in more than it already does. Americans need to save for when they will inevitably need care, said Sen. Mike Braun of Indiana, the ranking Republican on the aging committee.

"So often people just think it's just going to work out," he said. "Too many people get to the point where they're 65 and then say, 'I don't have that much there.'"

Private companies' prices have skyrocketed

The boomer generation is jogging and cycling into retirement, equipped with hip and knee replacements that have slowed their aging. And they are loath to enter the institutional setting of a nursing home.

But they face major expenses for the in-between years: falling along a spectrum between good health and needing round-the-clock care in a nursing home.

That has led them to assisted living centers run by for-profit companies and private equity funds enjoying robust profits in this growing market. Some 850,000 people age 65 or older now live in these facilities that are largely ineligible for federal funds and run the gamut, with some providing only basics like help getting dressed and taking medication and others offering luxury amenities like day trips, gourmet meals, yoga, and spas.

The bills can be staggering.

Half of the nation's assisted living facilities cost at least $54,000 a year, according to Genworth, a long-term care insurer. That rises substantially in many metropolitan areas with lofty real estate prices. Specialized settings, like locked memory care units for those with dementia, can cost twice as much.

Home care is costly, too. Agencies charge about $27 an hour for a home health aide, according to Genworth. Hiring someone who spends six or seven hours a day cleaning and helping an older person get out of bed or take medications can add up to $60,000 a year.

As Americans live longer, the number who develop dementia, a condition of aging, has soared, as have their needs. Five million to 7 million Americans age 65 and up have dementia, and their ranks are projected to grow to nearly 12 million by 2040. The condition robs people of their memories, mars the ability to speak and understand, and can alter their personalities.

Ruth Fremson

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The New York Times

Margaret Newcomb cares for her husband, Tim, who has dementia, at home in an effort to protect their retirement savings.

In Seattle, Margaret and Tim Newcomb sleep on separate floors of their two-story cottage, with Margaret ever mindful that her husband, who has dementia, can hallucinate and become aggressive if medication fails to tame his symptoms.

"The anger has diminished from the early days," she said last year.

But earlier on, she had resorted to calling the police when he acted erratically.

"He was hating me and angry, and I didn't feel safe," she said.

She considered memory care units, but the least expensive option cost around $8,000 a month and some could reach nearly twice that amount. The couple's monthly income, with his pension from Seattle City Light, the utility company, and their combined Social Security, is $6,000.

Placing her husband in such a place would have gutted the $500,000 they had saved before she retired from 35 years teaching art and French at a parochial school.

"I'll let go of everything if I have to, but it's a very unfair system," she said. "If you didn't see ahead or didn't have the right type of job that provides for you, it's tough luck."

In the last year, medication has quelled Tim's anger, but his health has declined so much that he no longer poses a physical threat. Margaret said she's reconciled to caring for him as long as she can.

"When I see him sitting out on the porch and appreciating the sun coming on his face, it's really sweet," she said.

The financial threat posed by dementia also weighs heavily on adult children who have become guardians of aged parents and have watched their slow, expensive declines.

Claudia Morrell, 64, of Parkville, Maryland, estimated her mother, Regine Hayes, spent more than $1 million during the eight years she needed residential care for dementia. That was possible only because her mother had two pensions, one from her husband's military service and another from his job at an insurance company, plus savings and Social Security.

Morrell paid legal fees required as her mother's guardian, as well as $6,000 on a special bed so her mother wouldn't fall out and on private aides after she suffered repeated small strokes. Her mother died last December at age 87.

"I will never have those kinds of resources," Morrell, an education consultant, said. "My children will never have those kinds of resources. We didn't inherit enough or aren't going to earn enough to have the quality of care she got. You certainly can't live that way on Social Security."

Women bear the burden of care

Shuran Huang

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The New York Times

Annie Reid moved from Colorado back into her childhood bedroom in Maryland and lived there for years to take care of her mother, Frances Sampogna, who had dementia.

For seven years, Annie Reid abandoned her life in Colorado to sleep in her childhood bedroom in Maryland, living out of her suitcase and caring for her mother, Frances Sampogna, who had dementia. "No one else in my family was able to do this," she said.

"It just dawned on me, I have to actually unpack and live here," Reid, 61, remembered thinking. "And how long? There's no timeline on it."

After Sampogna died at the end of September 2022, her daughter returned to Colorado and started a furniture redesign business, a craft she taught herself in her mother's basement. Reid recently had her knee replaced, something she could not do in Maryland because her insurance didn't cover doctors there.

"It's amazing how much time went by," she said. "I'm so grateful to be back in my life again."

Studies are now calculating the toll of caregiving on children, especially women. The median lost wages for women providing intensive care for their mothers is $24,500 over two years, according to a study led by Norma Coe, an associate professor at the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania.

Lewis moved back from England to Nashville to care for her mother, a former nurse who had a stroke that put her in a wheelchair.

"I was thrust back into a caregiving role full time," she said. She gave up a post as a research director for a nonprofit organization. She is also tending to her 87-year-old grandfather, ill with prostate cancer and kidney disease.

Making up for lost income seems daunting while she continues to support her mother.

But she is regaining hope: She was promoted to assistant dean for student affairs at Vanderbilt School of Nursing and was recently married. She and her husband plan to stay in the same apartment with her mother until they can save enough to move into a larger place.

William DeShazer

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The New York Times

Feylyn Lewis makes a cup of tea for her mother, Darline, who uses a wheelchair since she had a stroke. "I was thrust back into a caregiving role full time," she says.

Government solutions are elusive

Over the years, lawmakers in Congress and government officials have sought to ease the financial burdens on individuals, but little has been achieved.

The CLASS Act, part of the Obamacare legislation of 2010, was supposed to give people the option of paying into a long-term insurance program. It was repealed two years later amid compelling evidence that it would never be economically viable.

Two years ago, another proposal, called the WISH Act, outlined a long-term care trust fund, but it never gained traction.

On the home care front, the scarcity of workers has led to a flurry of attempts to improve wages and working conditions for paid caregivers. A provision in the Build Back Better Act to provide more funding for home care under Medicaid was not included in the final Inflation Reduction Act, a less costly version of the original bill that Democrats sought to pass last year.

The labor shortages are largely attributed to low wages for difficult work. In the Medicaid program, demand has clearly outstripped supply, according to a recent analysis. While the number of home aides in the Medicaid program has increased to 1.4 million in 2019 from 840,000 in 2008, the number of aides per 100 people who qualify for home or community care has declined nearly 12%.

In April, President Joe Biden signed an executive order calling for changes to government programs that would improve conditions for workers and encourage initiatives that would relieve some of the burdens on families providing care.

Turning to Medicaid, a shredded safety net

The only true safety net for many Americans is Medicaid, which represents, by far, the largest single source of funding for long-term care.

More than 4 in 5 middle-class people 65 or older who need long-term care for five years or more will eventually enroll, according to an analysis for the federal government by the Urban Institute. Almost half of upper-middle-class couples with lifetime earnings of more than $4.75 million will also end up on Medicaid.

But gaps in Medicaid coverage leave many people without care. Under federal law, the program is obliged to offer nursing home care in every state. In-home care, which is not guaranteed, is provided under state waivers, and the number of participants is limited. Many states have long waiting lists, and it can be extremely difficult to find aides willing to work at the low-paying Medicaid rate.

Qualifying for a slot in a nursing home paid by Medicaid can be formidable, with many families spending thousands of dollars on lawyers and consultants to navigate state rules. Homes may be sold or couples may contemplate divorce to become eligible.

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Dottye Burt cares for her husband, Stan Markowitz, at the nursing home he moved into in Baltimore in October 2022.

Shuran Huang / The New York Times

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Dottye Burt cares for her husband, Stan Markowitz, at the nursing home he moved into in Baltimore in October 2022.

Shuran Huang / The New York Times

Shuran Huang

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The New York Times

Stan Markowitz had to contribute $2,700 a month to the nursing home he moved to in Baltimore, which ate up 45% of the couple's retirement income. His wife, Dottye Burt, rented a modest apartment near the home, all she could afford on what was left of their income.

And recipients and their spouses may still have to contribute significant sums. After Stan Markowitz, a former history professor in Baltimore with Parkinson's disease, and his wife, Dottye Burt, 78, exhausted their savings on his two-year stay in an assisted living facility, he qualified for Medicaid and moved into a nursing home.

He was required to contribute $2,700 a month, which ate up 45% of the couple's retirement income. Burt, who was a racial justice consultant for nonprofits, rented a modest apartment near the home, all she could afford on what was left of their income.

Markowitz died in September at age 86, easing the financial pressure on her. "I won't be having to pay the nursing home," she said.

Even finding a place willing to take someone can be a struggle. Harold Murray, Sheila Littleton's grandfather, could no longer live safely in rural North Carolina because his worsening dementia led him to wander. She brought him to Houston in November 2020, then spent months trying to enroll him in the state's Medicaid program so he could be in a locked unit at a nursing home.

She felt she was getting the runaround. Nursing home after nursing home told her there were no beds, or quibbled over when and how he would be eligible for a bed under Medicaid. In desperation, she left him at a psychiatric hospital so it would find him a spot.

"I had to refuse to take him back home," she said. "They had no choice but to place him."

He was finally approved for coverage in early 2022, at age 83.

A few months later, he died.

Reed Abelson is a health care reporter for The New York Times. The New York Times' Kirsten Noyes and graphics editor Albert Sun, KFF Health News data editor Holly K. Hacker, and JoNel Aleccia, formerly of KFF Health News, contributed to this report.

US Health and Retirement Study AnalysisThe New York Times-KFF Health News data analysis was based on the Health and Retirement Study, a nationally representative longitudinal survey of about 20,000 people age 50 and older. The analysis defined people age 65 and above as likely to need long-term care if they were assessed to have dementia, or if they reported having difficulty with two or more of six specified activities of daily living: bathing, dressing, eating, getting in and out of bed, walking across a room, and using the toilet. The Langa-Weir classification of cognitive function, a related data set, was used to identify respondents with dementia. The analysis's definition of needing long-term care assistance is conservative and in line with the criteria most long-term care insurers use in determining whether they will pay for services.

People were described as recipients of long-term care help if they reported receiving assistance in the month before the interview for the study or if they lived in a nursing home. The analysis was developed in consultation with Norma Coe, an associate professor of medical ethics and health policy at the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania.

The financial toll on middle-class and upper-income people needing long-term care was examined by reviewing data that the HRS collected from 2000 to 2021 on wealthy Americans, those whose net worth at age 65 was in the 50th to 95th percentile, totaling anywhere from $171,365 to $1,827,765 in inflation-adjusted 2020 dollars. This group excludes the super-wealthy. Each individual's wealth at age 65 was compared with their wealth just before they died to calculate the percentage of affluent people who exhausted their financial resources and the likelihood that would occur among different groups.

To calculate how many people were likely to need long-term care, how many people needing long-term care services were receiving them, and who was providing care to people receiving help, we looked at people age 65 and older of all wealth levels in the 2020-21 survey, the most recent.

The U.S. Health and Retirement Study is conducted by the University of Michigan and funded by the National Institute on Aging and the Social Security Administration.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.Subscribe to KFF Health News' free Morning Briefing.

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