Joint Bank Account

A wedding ceremony and a joint bank account… That’s it. As an inexperienced and admittedly naïve newly married youth of 21 working on “adulting,” those two basics meant I was hitched, attached, dual, one. Always. Forever. Period.  Change to either of those two basic establishments never crossed my mind, and certainly, it is not what any young, naive newlywed expects. 

I am not as young or naive as I used to be, and both of those basics have held up in our married life until now.  The marriage vows are still firmly intact. But the joint bank account is another story.

Don’t jump to conclusions. I am not asking for money.

Shortly after the wedding ceremony, still starry-eyed and not yet having experienced our first married-life spat, Doug and I went to the bank to open a joint account.  I had my own bank account before marriage. I’m pretty sure Doug just used his pockets. We met the banker, dressed in the appropriately pressed bank attire, sitting behind a desk holding a logo pen. The banker asked for our ID.

In my case, the name on my ID was new. I dropped my maiden name, and Peacock proudly took Doug’s last name. I handed my ID to the banker with pride. Doug handed over his ID with some choice words, under his breath, about his picture and the DMV’s inept ability to wait until he fixed his hair.

We decided what type of account to open, signed our names on a signature card, pledged to each other to play nice in the financial sandbox, waited for the new checks to arrive in the mail, and voila! We were official. Two names on the same check representing our union. 

Okay maybe that’s a bit much… The point is, from that day forward until now, we have shared a bank account and financial decisions.  A few days ago, that changed.  Doug and I went to the bank together.  We met with a kind, finely pressed, and put-together banker.  We handed over our ID, and once again, Doug complained about the DMV’s lack of photographic experience (he really does have a mug shot for the picture).  With some clear direction and discussion, a shaky hand, and a temporary understanding of where to sign, Doug signed off our joint account. 

We left the bank, and tears rolled down my cheeks.  Melodramatic? Maybe.  But to me, it represented sole responsibility I didn’t want and fiscal powerlessness Doug didn’t want at all.  This bank outing candidly conveyed that wise daily and long-term financial decisions are departing his capability and are mine to make autonomously.

The dementia road is expensive, and there are a lot of decisions to make.  Doug and I would typically make important and expensive decisions together throughout our married life.  We would discuss the pros and cons and dialogue back and forth, sometimes laced with emotion, until we achieved a consensus.  After reaching an agreement we would proceed forward.

Those hearty discussions are now fewer and sadly more one-sided, even though there are still very necessary decisions to make.  Doug listens.  He wants to know what’s going on, and I tell him.  I am grateful for the awareness he has.  I understand the awareness he maintains is not always the case in people with FTD.  So in that, I feel lucky, and so does he.  Doug’s input, however, regarding the outcome of the decisions before us, is less articulate and sometimes tangled as the disease increasingly affects his language and problem-solving capabilities.

The next day, in the car by myself, after becoming the only name on the bank account, I got into a mad, poor me, definitely melodramatic yelling match with God.  Actually, I was the only one yelling.  He was listening.  I didn’t yell long.  His peace interrupted me, and His still small voice in my heart reminded me – Psalms 139.

Verse one begins the psalm with:

“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.”

Verse 23-24 ends the psalm with:

“Search me, God and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.”

The in-between, in this psalm, is His promise to take care of us completely. Always. Forever. Period.

Doug and Karen