Photos by Sam Dean | The Roanoke Times

Tommy Rhodes passes a wall with photos of his children in his home. His wife, Linda Rhodes, plans to sell the home, near Williamson Road in Roanoke, to pay for care for Tommy, who has dementia.

Linda Rhodes leans in to kiss Tommy Rhodes, her husband of 40 years, who has severe dementia.

Linda Rhodes puts her husband, Tommy Rhodes, to bed. With the help of friends and aides, she cares for her husband at home.

Life hasn't gotten easier for Linda Rhodes, the 61-year-old caregiver of a husband with severe dementia. But she's continued to figure out ways to cope with Tommy's condition.

Putting her house on the market, for instance. That wasn't what she had in mind for their so-called golden years -- selling the Williamson Road area home they loved.

But she's come to realize a one-story condo or ranch would work better as her husband of 40 years grows increasingly confused. More importantly, she needs the money from her home equity to help pay for the home care aides who look after him while she works.

The couple, profiled this year as part of the newspaper's "Age of Uncertainty" series, illustrated the demands of dementia on caregivers, especially younger ones who are still in the work force.

Formerly the executive assistant to the president of Lewis-Gale Medical Center, Linda asked for a switch to a more flexible job midyear and now works as a clinical recruiter for the hospital.

She still finds herself defending her decision to not to place Tommy in a nursing home, telling doctors that he gets better care at home. Her life would not be easier if he were institutionalized, she insists, because she'd spend all her time visiting him there and worrying about his care.

While his cognitive abilities have continued to decline, his care has become oddly easier to manage, Linda says. Meals, bedtime, bowel and bladder, regular sitters -- the more consistent the schedule is, the better the results.

"It's like potty training all over again," she said. "There were moments when I was cleaning him four and five times a day when I honestly thought, 'I can't do this anymore.' But I just needed to be smarter about what I needed him to do for me."

To get him to the dining room, she plays "follow the leader." To coax him to sit down, she sits down herself, then gets up and tells him it's his turn.

Some nights, it's like that scene in "The Miracle Worker" where Anne Bancroft struggles to get Helen Keller to sit at the table. Not long ago, Linda told him, "You shouldn't fuss with me about this. You should be sorry."

Tommy sat down and apologized.

"I know that deep within his brain -- living somewhere among all that is wrong with it -- a normal Tommy exists, and I am blessed on occasion to see that," she said. "I don't believe he would have those good moments in another environment."

Sometimes he still says: "I love you."

Linda is grateful for the outpouring of support she received in response to the story, from the woman who gave her a new bidet to help with his toileting to the old friends who began taking care of her yard.

After initial reliability problems with sitters, she's finally landed on the perfect day care provider, too. "I told my sitter, 'I bought three Lotto tickets. If I win, I'm building a brand-new house, and I'm building you one right next to me."

Moving to a one-story house or condo will allow Linda to do laundry without having to leave Tommy to go to the basement.

As his depth perception worsens, he'll be safer if he doesn't have to go up and down stairs.

"Unfortunately, we live in a world where you have to have nothing before any financial assistance comes your way," she said, referring to home care costs that add up to more than half of her take-home pay. Selling the house will enable her keep Tommy at home for as long as she can.

"I'm trying to fall out of love with this house and find another to love," she said.