I Saw the End of Long-Term Care in Maine

I served on the board of a century-old assisted living facility as it began to fall apart—not from scandal or sudden crisis, but from the slow erosion of bureaucratic programs never built to serve an aging population.

It wasn’t just the building at risk. It was the residents, the staff, the families—quietly failed by a system that confuses paperwork with care.

No one wanted to take responsibility.
Decisions were delayed.
Everyone was afraid of the political fallout.

When I raised my hand and said, “This isn’t working,” the system didn’t offer help.
It froze me out.
It watched to see if I’d disappear.

I didn’t.
I stepped down.
And I went to the press—not to cause a stir, but because the silence was crushing.
Someone had to speak for the people inside.

Meanwhile, Jeff Pierce stayed.

He didn’t posture. He acted.
He protected the staff. He stabilized families.
He stood his ground when others moved on.

Earlier—before the worst of it—Jeff had brought me in.
A Republican inviting a Democrat with deep aging expertise onto the board.
Not because we agreed, but because he understood politics would get in the way—and I could help navigate it.

We didn’t collaborate by design.
But we worked in parallel.
He held the line inside. I pushed for action outside.
And that’s what saved the place.

Not a single plan. Not a perfect partnership.
Just two people who took responsibility when no one else would.

And it worked.
The facility is still standing.

No one person caused the near-collapse.
But too many stayed silent.
Trust was broken. Staff were shaken. Families were left scrambling.
And I lost some of the most defining relationships of my life.

But I gained clarity:

We cannot fix long-term care without confronting the systems that fail it.
We cannot make good policy if we’re too afraid to name what’s broken.

Most people can’t say this out loud.
They’re too tied to institutions, reputations, or reelection campaigns.

But I can.

Because when I’m asked to choose between protecting politics or protecting people,
I choose the people—every time.

Let’s rebuild long-term care around dignity, not delay.
Let responsibility—not silence—define leadership.
And let truth—not convenience—shape the path forward.

I’ll never get back the version of my life that ended when I joined that board.
But I don’t want it back.

Because now I know exactly what I’m fighting for.
And I’m not done.