Sitting next to her, I notice her looking out the window. “This is such a nice color chrysanthemum” and proceeds to engage me around the garden outside. I wonder, “Did she enjoy gardening?” “Yes, I did before I got sick”. “I love to get my hands dirty!” Being wheelchair bound should not prevent one.

While working out on the elliptical at the Y, my attention is drawn for a moment to an elder woman and her companion, a very old man, half bent over whom she is assisting with the various machines. She leaves him alone briefly, and while she is gone, the man takes it upon himself.

It’s morning at the care program, and time for the first activity, the exercise group. Almost all have gathered around the fitness instructor, except Fred. One aide comes and invites him to get up. “Come on, it’s time to exercise, it’s good for you.” Fred does not budge and gives her a smile instead..

The aide saw me from a distance. She wanted to make me feel welcome. ‘Hurry up, there is someone coming behind you.’ She tried to rush the elder woman inside the community room. First, pushing her from the back. The woman kept on walking at her own pace, one step at a time, pushing.

A friend just sent me the link to new research from a team of Japanese researchers on ‘head-turning sign’ (HTS) and its potential link with Alzheimer’s. Here is the abstract: Aims To investigate the incidence and severity of the ‘head-turning sign’ (HTS), i.e. turning the head back to the caregiver(s) for help, in patients.

She was sitting quietly in front of her half empty plastic plate, hands laying obediently on top of her pink apron. Would she like me to help her with eating? Yes, she let me know, real loud. I had watched the aides feed her before, and I assumed she needed my full assistance. Pureed.

She does not speak words, only screams whenever she needs something. I introduce myself and ask if I may join her for a bit. She responded with a piercing gaze, not leaving my eyes for a second. I wondered if I may hold her hand. She did not blink and continued to engage me..

“Are you going to the party tonight?” She asks me. “Huh, I am not sure yet . . . “ “Yes, me neither. Actually, I am probably going to stay home. I am tired.” Too much alcohol, for too long, has left Betty with big holes in her memory, and she is coping the.

She confabulates. From knowing that about her to thinking that nothing she says or does makes sense, only one small step. Tonight, I stopped by the dining room on the second floor, just when dinner was being served. I was busy chatting with a group of residents when I saw one of the caregivers rush.