“When she said to leave him in the cold, I knew I couldn’t. What I did next shocked her.”

I was the one who finally managed to get my father-in-law into a top-tier nursing home—after my late husband’s sister flat-out refused to help.
I went to see him one evening after work. He was slouched in his chair, eyes fixed on the wall like he was somewhere else entirely. The first thing I noticed wasn’t his expression.

It was the cold.

The room felt like a refrigerator.

Anger flared in my chest. I marched down the hall and found the head nurse. She listened, then let out a tired sigh.

“His daughter already contacted us,” she said. “She left very specific instructions. She told us not to turn on the heat unless the temperature drops below fifty. Said he prefers it cold.”

I stared at her. “He has severe arthritis. He complains if it’s under seventy.”

The nurse shrugged, helpless. “She’s listed as his medical proxy. Her orders are documented.”

Unfortunately, that was true.