She schedules the appointments, watches the meds, reads the discharge papers twice, and answers the 2 a.m. phone call. She's been doing the job for years — without the title, the tools, or the paycheck. The Hearth exists to fix all three.
The job, finally equipped
The week's plan with names on every task, one-tap claiming, and a dispatch directory of nine real services she can deploy to a loved one's door from any state — respite, meals, rides, check-ins, meds.
Open the GridEvery hour of presence, dated and counted — the audit trail for the care agreement, the evidence for the caregiver exemption, the answer to "what do you even do all day?" In rows.
Open the LedgerPhysician of record → written plan of care (§7702B) → care agreement → HSA/FSA via LMN → the tax-season captures → GUIDE if dementia. Walked in order, each link makes the next one legal.
Walk the chainThe family names its CMO — in writing, dated, sealed to the charter, shared to the group chat. A title costs nothing and changes how every conversation after it goes. Her own Claude becomes her chief of staff.
Make the appointmentWhy the money follows the right thing
Home-cooked care delays the $114,975-a-year facility, prevents the falls, catches the med problems — and today the system keeps every dollar of that. The CMO room documents the prevention, dates it, and turns it into the family's negotiating file. Better caregiving → better outcomes → the savings accrue to the person who gave a damn.
Ten minutes
She was always the Chief Medical Officer. Now it says so somewhere.