Power of Attorney is a high-stakes administrative job, not a birthright or a reward for being the favorite child. The person holding it must be physically local to sign emergency documents, financially literate enough to manage a $12,000 monthly nursing home bill, and emotionally stable enough to make life-ending decisions without blinking. If a sibling lacks any of these three—proximity, literacy, or stability—they are the wrong choice, regardless of their birth order or professional title.

Most people treat Power of Attorney like an honorary title, something akin to being the executor of a will after someone has already passed. It isn't. It is an active, grueling, and often thankless role that begins the moment your parent can no longer manage their own affairs. You aren't just 'checking in'; you are managing a complex portfolio of insurance claims, property taxes, and care facility invoices that frequently exceed $100,000 a year. If your sibling struggles to file their own taxes on time, giving them the keys to your mother’s life savings is an act of negligence, not kindness.

Think about the sheer volume of paperwork involved in moving a parent into a nursing home. You are looking at a forty-page contract, state-mandated disclosure forms, and a financial screening that looks like a mortgage application. A POA who lives three states away or who gets 'overwhelmed by numbers' will cause delays. In the world of care facilities, delays mean losing a bed in a high-quality building with a Palmelle Clarity Score of 90 and being forced to settle for a place with a 40 because it was the only one with an opening on short notice.

Financial literacy is non-negotiable. The POA needs to understand the difference between a revocable trust and a standard checking account, and they need to know how to talk to a Medicaid caseworker without losing their temper. If your sibling views your parent's money as a future inheritance rather than a current care fund, they have a fundamental conflict of interest. The priority is always the care of the parent today, even if it means there is zero dollars left for the kids tomorrow.

There is a romanticized idea that the 'smart' sibling in New York can handle the finances while the 'local' sibling in Ohio handles the day-to-day care. This is a logistical nightmare waiting to happen. When a parent falls and needs an emergency transition from a hospital to a rehab wing, the facility needs signatures immediately. If the person with the legal authority is in a different time zone or stuck in a board meeting, the parent sits in a hospital hallway while the bureaucracy grinds to a halt. Proximity is a functional requirement for POA, not a suggestion.

We see this play out constantly in care facilities across the country. A resident needs a change in their care plan—perhaps a move to a memory care wing because their dementia has progressed. The local sibling sees the need clearly; they see the agitation, the wandering, and the weight loss. The long-distance POA, who only hears Mom sound 'totally fine' on a curated Sunday phone call, refuses to sign the paperwork. This creates a dangerous environment for the parent and a toxic one for the siblings. The person who sees the reality should be the person who holds the pen.

Furthermore, the emotional toll of being the 'boots on the ground' without the legal power to make changes is a fast track to caregiver burnout. It creates a dynamic where one sibling does all the labor while the other sibling holds all the veto power. If you are the one attending the care conferences and talking to the nurses, you need the legal standing to act on the information you’re gathering. Anything else is just supervised exhaustion.

In an effort to avoid hurt feelings, many parents decide to name all their children as 'Co-Powers of Attorney.' This is the single biggest mistake a family can make. It sounds fair in a living room, but it is a disaster in a doctor's office. Most Co-POA documents are written 'jointly,' meaning both siblings must sign every single check and every single consent form. If one sibling is on a cruise or simply disagrees out of spite, the entire system of care collapses. It turns every minor decision into a committee meeting.

Even if the document is written 'severally'—meaning either can act alone—it creates a 'he said, she said' environment that care facilities loathe. Imagine a nursing home administrator receiving two different sets of instructions from two different children. They won't choose a side; they will simply freeze the account or stop the transition until a court decides. This leads to expensive guardianship battles that can cost upwards of $10,000 in legal fees, money that should have gone toward your parent’s care.

Instead of equal power, consider specialized roles. One sibling can be the Financial POA while the other is the Care Directive (or Healthcare Proxy). This separates the money from the medicine. However, even this requires a level of cooperation that many fractured families simply don't have. If you can't agree on where to go for Thanksgiving, you certainly shouldn't be co-managing a six-figure care budget. Pick one person. Make them the primary. Name a successor. Then get out of the way.