Yesterday, I returned from seeing a matinee with friends (Photograph) and there was a man sitting on the brick steps leading to our front porch. He was confused, and couldn't rise, though he had a cane with him. Talking to him I quickly realized he had dementia, and through talking calmly, I got his name and then his address which was up the street about a dozen houses away. I opened the front door and called to my husband, who came out and drove up to the man's house, where there were two police cars and family and his wife frantic. He had been gone three hours. The police were very kind and gentle with him, and by supporting him on either side got him to his feet and in the police car to head back to his house. Our house is hidden and way off the street, so no one had seen him, though there was a search up and down the streets. My husband had not gone out and therefore hadn't seen or heard him. Thank goodness it wasn't Monday, when the temperature was 100 degrees! But still. Three hours. This morning his wife dropped by to thank us, and I was thanking my lucky stars he hadn't tried to climb the final brick steps and fallen backward and killed himself.
Now I know why they are selling their house. I had been curious. This dear old man is going to have to go into memory care, or some supervised setting. It's so sad, and I hope he fares well in his next stage of life.
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