This is a little two-fer huddle-up for two folks: Geri-me who has an active Power of Attorney in place, and for Geri-me’s POA.

I’ll start with Geri-Me, because I am at the center of it all it seems. Yo, Geri-Me with an active POA. First of all, high five for getting your legal shizzle together and establishing POA documents and lining up people to help manage your life should you become incapacitated in some way. Big win for you. This is huge. Hopefully, you have chosen a person(s) who wants the best for you and who has nothing to gain from your impairment. And double hopefully, you have gone the extra mile and actually TOLD the person(s) of their impending responsibility. Triple hopefully: you got your will, medical directives and all other associated legal documents drawn up at the same time and you are ready to geri-roll. Yay you, Geri-me!

OK, let’s get real here: if you have an active POA in place at this very moment, you are majorly effed in some way. You are in crisis, my friend. You have grandes problemas, ¿Entiendes? And the person you have selected to be your POA has graciously stepped forward to HELP YOU. I guarantee you with every fiber in my body this person does NOT WANT THE JOB. They are reluctant and probably pretty put out by the whole “honor” you have bestowed upon them. All they want is the best for you, and they love you. But they are not experts in financial management, or healthcare or legal situations or geriatric care planning. They are just a person you trust. And they have their own fish to fry. They have their own family, their own problems, their own crises. Now, they are banging their heads against the wall on your behalf– probably on their lunch break during work or while they are cooking dinner for their families — faxing financial institutions, calling the 1-800 number on your cable service bill and snail-mailing documents to your credit card companies and healthcare providers. They probably haven’t yet done this BS for themselves. So, please for the love of everything geri, just humble yourself and go with their flow and be exceedingly GRATEFUL you have chosen someone trustworthy and kind to advocate for you and your currently effed up situation.

OK, it’s your turn, Geri-Me POA: Hats off to you, honey. This is hard stuff and you are a special breed of human to take me on. I understand deeply that this is no ordinary situation. Your calling here is to put some framework around me, the new temporary center of your life. It is your job to shore me up, get me to a place of no-panic normalcy and get my long a** freaking train back on the track. There is no perfect nor prescribed way to do this. There will be gaping holes in the track and there will be cattywampusness and headaches and OMFG moments galore. There will be no gold star or A-plus with this job. Please hire people smarter than you or I to help you on my behalf. And try as you might, you will not get me to do things you feel are “smart” or “healthy” if I’m not onboard already. If I sit in bed all day eating Lucky Charms drinking Chardonnay and watching Doctor Pimple Popper and you feel that is JUST NOT RIGHT, then that is YOUR PROBLEM, not mine. But I do thank you for righting my ship and getting me to the shore because obviously I could not find the way on my own. But for all the little things that are a matter of preferences vs. carnal or financial life or death, just shake your head and keep moving because you cannot control everything, sister. If your POA works and is accepted and does its job, however, you will have a special place in heaven and I am eternally grateful to you for your kind and dedicated service to my well-being.

POAs are not a roll to be taken lightly, ya’ll. Tread carefully into it and know it’s RIFE with challenges and heartburn and uber yuck. POAs are necessary for all human beings, but there’s not one thing easy or sweet or fun about it. Not one. #GrandPlans