How do I stop fighting with mom?
“Mom’s room is a mess!” Joe complained. “Every time I go in there, we argue about her clothes and her dirty briefs and all of that!”
“Mom’s room is a mess!” Joe complained. “Every time I go in there, we argue about her clothes and her dirty briefs and all of that!”
A story by Bob G., a reader who wrote in to Dementia By Day My brother, Al, still lives on the south shore of Long
Two single beds sat beside one another. One, unmade, sheets uneven, looked as though it had just been slept in. The other, made, simple—a single
Dot, It has been a while since I’ve seen you. I moved to a new state, but I didn’t tell you that I was moving.
“Mike’s Auto Shop. Krispy Kreme Donuts, hot donuts. Sears,” she said. Vera* was reading every single sign we passed on the road. Vera’s dementia has
I had taken a few of my residents out to lunch when I noticed a woman across the restaurant quietly observing us. It’s not uncommon