Reggie was only 54 years old, but you might guess that he was 74. He walked slowly, hunched over and wincing in pain. We didn’t know what his medical diagnosis was. It could have been early onset dementia or a string of small strokes, but we knew that his needs were greater than we could meet, and yet, he wanted to stay at home.
We supported him in the best ways we knew how, taking food to his apartment on the nights he didn’t make it out to the community meal, providing him with clean pants and adult diapers when his clothes were soiled, and checking in on him if we hadn’t seen him for a few days. Ultimately, we had to make a report to protective services that he was unable to care for himself, unable to make safe choices, and likely in need of a guardian.
Where would Reggie go from here?
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