What’s next for us? Looking to God for the answers I need most

One day last week I sat down to pray (as opposed to sneaking in prayer times in the car, on the go).

I was alone. Evelyn was still asleep, and the kitchen was quiet. I had read a couple Bible chapters, and now it was time for prayer. But I couldn’t find the words.

Finally, I whispered, with a catch in my throat, “God . . . I don’t know what to do.”

I’ve been wrestling with whether or when and where Evelyn should move to a care community. The questions had been with me almost every moment.

That morning God didn’t speak, but since then I’ve been mulling over what others have said when I’ve brought up this topic. Perhaps I’ll hear his guidance someday in comments something like one of these.

 “She could certainly fall in a nursing home, too.”

Our visit to the hospital two weeks ago, precipitated by a fall that caused five fractured ribs and a punctured and collapsed lung, seems like a turning point to me. Since then, I’ve spent uncounted hours and dollars to mitigate fall risks around our house. From the bathroom to the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room, I’ve added some things and taken away others, all to help prevent another dangerous stumble.

But more than one person has told me there’s no way to guarantee a person won’t fall except by tying them in a chair (and even then, sometimes they get out). It’s as true in a facility as it is at home.

“I hear about falls here all the time,” a friend whose wife is in a top-rated nursing home told me.

“Here’s the truth,” a friend from my support group reported. “The very day we moved my mother into a home she fell and broke two ribs!”

Preventing a fall can’t be the only motivation for moving Evelyn. A move would eliminate the need for my eagle-eyed attention every time she shuffles out of her chair.

But is that enough reason to move her?

“We added years to her life when we moved my mother-in-law out of her house.”

But she was a widow living alone at home, long past the time she could take care of herself, and all her family lived far away. There was absolutely no other choice for her.

But even though our situation is different than this one, I can’t forget this testimony.

Would we say something similar after moving Evelyn?

“I’ve found that, generally, people receive better care at home than in a facility.”

Evelyn’s family doctor said that when I raised the possibility of a move. “It’s a big task to manage,” the doctor admitted. “Dealing with agencies, coordinating schedules, vetting applicants.” But it’s the route she prefers.

I quoted her to one of our visiting caregivers who has years of experience, and her reply was, “Well, yeah.”

But “better” isn’t always possible. And soon the question comes, “Better for whom?”

What’s the better solution for both Evelyn and me?

“Evelyn needs you to be what no one else can be: her husband.”

This came from another medical professional, an in-home physical therapist who visited Evelyn in the wake of the hospital stay. This is her conclusion after 10 years working in care facilities and 10 more in home health care. “She’s losing everything else,” she explained. “Don’t let her lose her husband, too.”

This is the most nuanced advice I’ve heard so far. I think she’s saying that when my caregiving interactions with Evelyn overwhelm my ability to relate as her husband, that’s a problem. “When caregiving takes such a toll that you’re no longer the person she married,” she added, “it’s time to make a change.”

One way to prevent this is to add more in-home care. I’m working on that. This week, for example, we’re welcoming caregivers some part of every weekday, freeing me to get out of the house or stay home and take care of ignored stacks in the basement, reams of paper stashed into three file cabinets, and forgotten clothes in every closet.

I’m still negotiating this, but I’ve already been given contact information for yet another professional caregiver looking to fill empty slots in her schedule.

Could that referral out of the blue this week be one way God’s guiding me?

“You’ll know when it’s time.”

Really? Right now, I’m bouncing back and forth between “I can’t do this” in one moment and “Why would she need to move?” in another. Our life is changing for sure, her capacities are deteriorating, and when I’m here I’m always on-task. But I know I need help, and I’m getting it. We manage, just the two of us, pretty well. Most of the time.

Should I wait till keeping her here has become totally untenable?

 I’d be pleased, of course, if God would speak clearly and unmistakably. Until he does, I’ll keep praying, I’ll continue to seek the advice of many counselors, and I’ll listen to my gut.

I’ll admit it’s an unreliable source, but I do hear from it often.