I called Tinsley’s physician, Dr. Booton, mid-afternoon last Tuesday. For the last two weeks, Tinsley kept pacing around the house. On the days I worked from his house, I heard bedside drawers being opened, followed by the sounds of rummaging, and then drawers slammed back into place. I found him in his master bedroom.

“How can I help, Tinsley?” I asked.

“I can’t find my razor blades,” he replied irritably.

After twenty minutes of searching together, I found an empty bank bag stuffed with razors that he stored in the armoire that sits in his living room. On other days, we went through the same process looking for his wallet or for the remote controls to TVs. The pattern of hiding things started before Mother died, especially car keys. It took too much time to search every drawer in every room, so I bought Tiles that ring when you are within 100 feet of the object. So I inserted one in his wallet and attached another to his car key ring.

TILE on Key Ring

On good days, Tinsley would turn the kitchen faucet on to fill a watering bucket for his plants and then walk away. Or he would open the refrigerator in the garage and not shut it tightly.

The nurse had already asked Tinsley to pee in a cup for a quick urinalysis before Dr. Booton saw him. After he walked in and exchanged pleasantries, he began to evaluate him. He asked Tinsley if he had been going to the bathroom more to rule out a urinary tract infection. Tinsley couldn’t answer with yes or no. Instead, he spoke unintelligible mixtures of random words or phrases. I also told Dr. Booton that Tinsley complained about not seeing well. I reported that Tinsley’s ophthalmologist had already ruled out a detaching retina and cataracts. Dr. Booton ruled out the possibility that Tinsley was having mini-strokes. He then explained that Tinsley was probably suffering from a common phenomenon that happens to Alzheimer’s patients. They lose their peripheral vision.

Dr. Booton swiveled on his roller stool. “It is past time,” he said to me.

Tinsley is in the moderate stage of Alzheimer’s disease. Mother had the same condition. When Mother was alive, she and Tinsley found a way to maintain their independence. Tinsley drove at night because Mother’s vision had changed. She maintained a structured schedule on her Yahoo calendar, and all he had to do was show up. But ever since my Mother died, Tinsley was on his own and his anxiety kept growing.

The last month has been revealing. I knew Tinsley was in a bad place when he started wandering away from the house. He used to step outside to pick up the morning paper, the mail, or to check out his yard. But that changed in the last month. Two weeks ago he wandered all the way to Mesa drive, which is a dangerous road. Our neighbor picked him up and took him home. Then a couple of weeks later, he announced to our renter upstairs at 9:30 pm one evening that he was “going somewhere.” He had his cap on and intended to walk out the door. She gently guided him to his chair in front of the TV, gave him a glass of water, and sat with him to calm him down. Then it happened again last week. He not only left the house, but he headed to his friend’s house that sits at the top of Mesa, which is a huge incline.

Looking Up Mesa Drive

It was a hot morning, and our renter followed him in her car. She kept trying to coax him to get in, but he refused. He wanted to be with his friend, Sonny. Sonny wasn’t expecting him, but he lovingly took him in and spent half a day with him.

It has always been my goal to honor Tinsley’s estate plan, which is to keep him home for as long as possible. But my biggest struggle was providing daily supervision. Since Mother died, I’ve taken care of him and made sure he had lunch and dinner. I kept him company as often as possible, including working from his house when I didn’t have client appointments. Instead of going home after work, I watched television with him so he wasn’t alone. At night, I made sure he was tucked in bed before I locked the house and headed home. During the day, I watched him enjoy three chickens that often came to our house from across the street.

Tinsley with a Hen

It didn’t take long to figure out that I couldn’t maintain this kind of schedule. Tinsley needed a consistent caregiver. While praying for guidance, a new opportunity arose. A retired lady from my church needed a place to live within 30 days, so I offered a room upstairs to rent at Tinsley’s house. She was even willing to provide meals for him periodically. She moved in on July 1st. Tinsley adjusted to her living in the house with him, and he appreciated her help on many occasions. However, none of these solutions kept him safe at all times. I could install a deadbolt lock on the front door, but Dr. Booton didn’t like that idea. He said that would increase Tinsley’s anxiety and agitation.

The feeling of failure followed. Why can’t I make it work for him to continue to stay at home, even though he lives in a state of confusion? Can’t I live with him and bring in care throughout the day so I can go to work without worrying about his safety? If Tinsley had received consistent care from one person from Helper Bees, this idea would have merit. Unfortunately, I experienced what many others experience with home health workers. They come and go often. And someone with Alzheimer’s needs a familiar face. Sadness settled in. This is a man who has unconditionally loved me from the moment he married Mother. He was always there for me and never judged me. To say “I love him so much” doesn’t get close to how deeply I respect and adore him. I want to return his love 100 times over, but moving him to a care facility doesn’t express that. It feels so wrong and unfair for someone at age 79. How do I even begin to live with myself? How could I do this to him?

I found Arden Courts, a memory care community, which gave me peace. He’s right down the street from Balcones Country Club, and the community is smaller and more intimate. They have four wings with fifteen rooms in each. Each wing has its own kitchen, community room, and a lovely outside walk area. They have a couple of activity rooms in the main area of the building. He is only twelve minutes from my house and fifteen minutes from my office. I can see him easily every day. After signing paperwork, I drove to his house. I found him in the bathroom trying to shave his face without shaving cream.

I knew it was past time.

Blessings,

Lee Ann

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