It rings at seven. Then at eleven. Then at three. Then at six, and again at nine. Always the same sentence: "come get me", or "they didn't give me any supper", or "somebody took my purse".
And at some point the thing you will not admit to anyone happens: you start dreading your own phone. You see her name come up and you do not answer. And then the guilt keeps you awake.
This page explains what is actually happening, and gives you something that works.
1. The thing to understand before anything else
She is not harassing you. She does not remember calling.
In dementia, recent memory goes first. Every call is, to her, the first call. She is not persisting: she is calling now, for the first time, with the same distress she felt half an hour ago and does not know she has already felt.
That single sentence changes everything. You are not being emotionally manipulated — you are watching a memory reset. And your exhaustion is still legitimate; the two do not cancel out.
2. What she is actually asking for
Almost never the content of the call.
- anxiety, which in dementia comes out as a demand for contact;
- disorientation: she does not know the time, the day, or when she will see you;
- a particular time of day. If the calls cluster after five, that is sundowning — the same late-afternoon agitation the staff see on the floor;
- the need to hear a familiar voice and check she has not been forgotten.
Keep a note for a week: time, what she said, what had just happened. A pattern almost always appears — and a pattern can be worked with, chaos cannot.
3. Three answers that make it worse
Correcting her with facts. "Mom, you already called three times." To her that is untrue, so what lands is: *I am a nuisance, and you are scolding me.* Result: more distress, more calls.
Long calls. The longer you talk, the more activated she becomes, and the sooner she calls back. Short, frequent calls settle; long ones stir up.
Promising to come. "I'll come tomorrow", said to end the call, is the worst of the three.
4. What actually works
Predictability beats availability. One short call, always at the same time, made by you, reduces the calls more than ten scattered answers.
A fixed script, the same every time: "Hi Mom, it's me. I'm fine, everything's fine. Today I did X. I'm thinking about you. I'll see you Thursday and I'll bring peaches."
Always end with a specific appointment, not "talk soon".
Validate the feeling, not the content. "You feel alone. I know. It's hard."
Tell the staff, and ask for it to go in the plan of care: "my mother phones compulsively between 5 and 8; please assess what is happening in that window." You can request a care conference rather than waiting for the annual one.
5. The accusations: "they took my purse", "they don't feed me"
Here you have to do the hardest thing: hold two possibilities open at once.
Sometimes it is confabulation — the brain fills a gap in memory with a plausible explanation. The purse has not gone: it is in the closet, and she does not remember putting it there. It is not lying, and it is not malice.
And sometimes it is true. Things do go missing in homes, and meals do get missed.
The rule that holds both
- never argue;
- check quietly whatever is checkable. The purse: look in the closet. The food: ask for the food and fluid record, and visit at lunchtime, unannounced;
- if it stands up, it was not confabulation — and note that homes are required to have a process for missing personal property, and provinces publish quality data you can look at;
- if it does not, answer the feeling: "That scared you. Let's look together."
6. The phone itself
Sooner or later somebody will suggest taking it away. Think twice.
The phone is her link to the world, and the Residents' Bill of Rights in every province protects the right to communicate in confidence and to maintain contact with family. Removing it is not a technical fix — it is a restriction on a right, and it belongs in a documented care plan decision, not a quiet arrangement.
Alternatives that work better
- a simple phone with photo buttons;
- a clock showing the day and date clearly in her room;
- a large sheet by the phone: "Today is Tuesday. Anne is coming Thursday.";
- voicemail with your voice on it.
7. Protecting yourself
You are not obligated to answer every call. Two short, calm calls a day beat twenty tense ones.
Decide a window and tell the home: "I answer between six and seven; if something important happens, you call me."
8. When the calls mean something is wrong
- they start abruptly: look for a medical cause, starting with a urinary tract infection or pain;
- the content changes and fear of one particular person appears;
- they coincide with a particular shift;
- they come with weight loss, bruises, or new drowsiness.
Then the subject is not the phone. It is what happens when she hangs up — and in most provinces anyone who suspects neglect of a resident has a duty to report it.
Curalune Care Help (CA$99) puts together, usually within 24 business hours, a shortlist of 3 to 5 homes matched to her area and care needs — with contacts and the questions to ask about memory care and late-afternoon agitation.
*General information, not medical advice. Admission, fees and availability are always confirmed by the homes and the responsible provincial bodies.*