Matt wasn’t too keen on the idea of moving into assisted living. He was more than content where he was, in his one bedroom apartment, close to a few of his friends, and close to the things that he had become comfortable with through the years.

His family, his two oldest sons, in fact, kept trying to convince him that it was time to move, that he needed to give up his apartment and be surrounded by people who would support him, care for him, cook for him, and even clean for him. His two sons were worried about his health, especially after he fell the second time. It was more than four hours before he came to and managed to get to the phone to call the hospital.

He didn’t believe that he needed any support. He was 79, still in decent health, but occasionally lost his balance when he got up to fast. He managed the steps to his second floor landing well, when the elevator wasn’t working. He still cooked a great meal when the mood struck, and he could sit by the window and watching the kids on the street playing tag, stickball, or even kicking a soccer ball around.

Life was good. This was his neighborhood. He didn’t want to move. Yet his boys kept pushing assisted living on him, as though he was diseased and making a fatal mistake living where he was living now.

He had finally had enough and told them to stop calling him and stopping by, unless they “gave up this pipe dream” of theirs. He knew all about these places. They were full of sick, decrepit old people just waiting to die, being neglected by the staff and sitting in their own filth.

One day, Matt’s daughter came by with some information about alternative places to live. They looked interesting, until he heard that they were assisted living facilities. He scolded his daughter, chased her out, and almost threw out the materials she brought.

Almost.

Later that night, when he had calmed down, he began looking through them. It wasn’t anything like he thought. He didn’t want to be forced from his home and that’s what he was focused on. His kids were focused on his welfare and he just couldn’t see that because he thought he knew about these places.

What he learned was that he had a right to decide where he lived and how he lived. As family, they had a right to worry. Sometimes getting information across is the best step toward any level of care. If your family is pressuring you about assisted living, they care. You may have some misconceptions about it, so politely ask them to stop talking about it unless they can provide actual useful information about the facilities, the activities, the resources, the staff and more so that you could go through it all and see if you could picture yourself living there.

For more information about Pipestone Place Assisted Living in San Antonio, TX or to take a tour, call today (210) 718-0211.

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