Home, Sweet Home

At one a.m. on Easter morning, I took Jasper out for his regular nighttime walk.  Walking down the street we soon saw a woman, elderly, frail, and maybe impaired as well, walking down the street. She called out, asking where a certain intersection could be found.  I realized that she was in the wrong neighborhood: about 3/4 mile away from where she wanted to be.  She could walk through dark neighborhoods to get there, but given that she was frail and it was so late, the only reasonable solution was to give her a ride home.  

So, I told the woman to wait by a fire hydrant.  I took Jasper back home, got the car, picked the woman up, and dropped her off in front of a small two-story apartment building sporting an unoccupied balcony.  She seemed confused, though.  Was this her home?  She wasn't sure. She was also unsure if she had her small purse with her. She said if I somehow found her purse she would still be here, at least until 2 a.m.

I returned home, got Jasper, and started walking him again.  I was bothered by the possibility of a missing purse, so I examined the area near the fire hydrant.  I didn't find a purse, but I did find a notebook of phone numbers and a pair of glasses.  I decided to return these items if possible, but first I had to finish walking Jasper.  His nighttime walk is very programmed and nothing can stop him once he gets going. So we walked first.

Forty-five minutes later, I arrived back at the apartment building where I had dropped the woman off.  The woman was gone, but a husband and wife now sat on the balcony.  I exited my car and started asking if they knew a frail elderly woman.  I told them I had dropped such a woman off in front of their building about 45 minutes before. They hadn't seen her.

It slowly emerged that the woman was the mother of the husband.  She had taken the Light Rail to shop at Walmart at 1:00 p.m. and she still hadn't returned, and that she might be showing signs of dementia.  "We've been thinking maybe she should get tested."  The wife came downstairs and looked at the notebook with phone numbers.  She called up to her husband, "This must be hers.  Here's your phone number."  Suddenly, the wife saw the frail woman far away in the darkness.  She had wandered about a block away.  The wife quickly went to retrieve her and bring her home.

I went home and reflected on events.  The woman had likely taken the Light Rail Gold Line, whose station was just a few blocks from her house, to Walmart, but returned on the Light Rail Blue Line, was dropped more than a mile away from her house, and so after much walking ended up in my neighborhood.  Through a complicated chain of events we were able to prevent much suffering without involving authorities, "Silver Alerts," and all the rest.  I hope the family begins to take precautions.  It's so easy to for solitary people with dementia to get into trouble.