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 dinner", or "somebody stole 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 me 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. They feel generous and are counterproductive: 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. If she remembers, she waits by the door all day and is let down; if she does not, you have still taught her that calling produces a promise.
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." The brain recognizes the tune even when it loses the words.
Always end with a specific appointment, not "talk soon". A date is something to hold; "soon" is nothing.
Validate the feeling, not the content. "You feel alone. I know. It's hard." Someone who feels heard needs to repeat themselves less.
Tell the staff. It sounds obvious and almost nobody does it: if they know she calls twenty times a day and what she says, they can get ahead of it — an activity at that hour, a walk at five, a check for pain. Ask for it to go in the care plan — and you can request a care plan meeting rather than waiting for the scheduled one.
5. The accusations: "they stole 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. It is how the illness works.
And sometimes it is true. Things do go missing in facilities, and meals do get skipped.
The rule that holds both
- never argue ("no Mom, your purse is right there"). It goes nowhere;
- check quietly whatever is checkable. The purse: look in the closet. The food: ask for the meal intake record, and visit at lunchtime, unannounced. Ten minutes in the dining room answers the question better than any conversation;
- if it stands up, it was not confabulation, and that is a different matter — and worth noting that a facility must safeguard residents' possessions and must investigate reports of missing property;
- if it does not, there is nothing to be gained by proving it. 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 residents have a federal right to privacy in communications and to have access to a telephone. Removing it is not a technical fix — it is a restriction on a right, and it belongs in a documented care plan decision, not in a quiet arrangement between family and staff.
Alternatives that work better
- a simple phone with photo buttons, which cuts accidental and wrong-number calls;
- a clock showing the day and date clearly in her room: a good share of the calls come from not knowing what day it is;
- a large sheet by the phone: "Today is Tuesday. Anne is coming Thursday." It sounds trivial. It cuts the calls more than you would expect;
- voicemail with your voice on it, for the hours you cannot pick up.
7. Protecting yourself
Plainly: you are not obligated to answer every call.
Answering the twentieth call while exhausted harms both of you — she hears a tone that frightens her, you are left with the guilt. Two short, calm calls a day beat twenty tense ones.
Decide a window and tell the facility: "I answer between six and seven; if something important happens, you call me." Then the real emergency comes down a different channel, and you can let the rest ring out without guilt.
8. When the calls mean something is wrong
- they start abruptly in someone who never used to call: 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.
Curalune Care Help ($89) puts together, usually within 24 business hours, a shortlist of 3 to 5 facilities 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, rates and availability are always confirmed by the facilities and the responsible agencies.*