Yes, I'd find the idea of cracking someone open disturbing, too. Much surgery~ and recovery~ma to your mom, Steph.

My paternal grandmother died in a nursing home. She was the daughter of Finnish immigrants. She grew up on an Upper Peninsula farm, went to a "normal school" (basically, the 1910s version of a teaching college), and taught in MI and MN before marrying grandpa and having dad. And then, unusually for the time, went back to teaching in a one-room schoolhouse. I have the skiis she used to get there hanging on my living room wall. By all accounts she was a brilliant, vibrant woman who could hold her own in verbal debate or in hunting deer. She knew every tree, shrub, and plant in the UP and could tell you what each one was good for. She was Dad's biggest influence, and the reason he went to college and became a teacher.

My only memory of her is of a speechless old woman attempting to reach a fetal position in a wheel chair, drooling. Dementia took her from the family 10 years before she died. God, I wish I'd had a chance to know her.

Dementia is indeed cruel, and they are having progress. I have considered becoming involved in the research because that would mean better monitoring and prevention, and they really want and need volunteers. They are getting pretty good at detecting people inclined to have issues long before they have symptoms. And if I did have the genes then best to know sooner. From the Alz.org site -

If you are interested in participating in a current clinical trial, use Alzheimer's Association TrialMatch®, a free individualized service that matches volunteers with trials based on certain criteria, such as stage of disease, current treatments and location. A lack of volunteers for Alzheimer's clinical trials is one of the greatest obstacles slowing the progress of potential new treatments.

Calli, that's so sad. Sounds like she was amazing.

Laura, thanks for that info.

Lots of ~ma for your mom, Steph. Glad they caught it.

Vignette from life with my roommate, who is a social worker, but not mine:

Me: Okay, I just need to complain for a second, I'm not looking for solutions or anything - I think one of my ribs is dislocated, and it hurts and it's annoying.

Him: [several stupid questions] I know I always say this, but you should really try tai chi.

Him: [several stupid questions] I know I always say this, but you should really try tai chi.

May you should try Karate, or Krav Maga on his ass. ijs

My FIL's dementia was cruel to everyone in his life. It removed his filter and he enjoyed the power of getting angry and saying whatever he liked. Seeing the veneer of niceness slipping away was horrifying and all three of us girls loathed and feared his company so much we avoided him during holiday gatherings.

I did enjoy getting up to his face and ordering him to quit harassing Sue. I couldn't defend myself from his shit, but I didn't hesitate to protect her. Go me. No wonder he disliked me so much at the end.

Also I have a front row seat for a valve replacement surgery that will crack open the chest of an 80 year old woman - as soon as she completes laser knife therapy for the little "booger" of lung cancer discovered during surgery prep. I got involved in my neighbor's health care saga by virtue of not being scared of driving into San Francisco. Poor ME was at her wit's end not knowing how she would solve the transportation, and I am right across the street with the big safe van we bought specifically for safe travel over the San Mateo Bridge in any weather for visiting the in laws. I felt like a super hero because that one was so easy for me to solve.

I'm not so content with four more rides to SSF for laser therapy because I know the heart surgery event is pending, but I wouldn't leave her stranded for anything.

I wish she didn't have to worry about working as many hours as possible because her car is dying. If I could really be her Ride Fairy and get her a little beater that would get her to the laundromat I would be so happy. I would pay a year's rent for her in advance too. I'd like it if her only worry was getting bored.

Teppy, I meant to say, tons of ~ma to your mother. I'm sorry I forgot to say something earlier.

Today is apparently messy day in our house. Oatmeal everywhere at breakfast and lentil soup everywhere at lunch. Ugh. Thessaly isn't able to come today to join us at the Farmers Market, and I'm trying to decide how confident I'm feeling with the new car seat/ stroller to take ltc out alone.

It is wonderful that your neighbor has you in her life, KB.

The only really up close and personal experience I had with horrible brain function was with my late husband. He had a psychotic break that lasted maybe a day or two on one of his hospital stays. He was extremely cruel and mean to everyone, including me. They had to restrain him and they basically forbid me from seeing him until he was back to normal. He was alternating between crying and begging me to get rid of the restraints and screaming at me. It was the most frightening experience of my life and my heart breaks for all the people that have to deal with this long term. It is one thing to rationally tell yourself that it is a brain malfunction and they don't mean it, but way harder to let it roll off.

Yeah, psychotic breaks are no fun. Marching up and down the hall naked and yelling incoherently at the top of his voice is a memory of Dad I'd love to lose. When we got to the hospital he was still naked (he pulled off everything they tried to put on him), in restraints on a bare mattress (he shredded the sheets). They requested really firmly that a family member stay with him, or we hire private nurses to stay with him around the clock, until they found a drug cocktail to knock him down. Psycho to zombie in four days. I never saw my dad--the person he was--again.

Katie, your neighbor is blessed to have you in her life.

ME is such a lovely person to hang out with - I get to hear all her stories about the fun she had back in the 60s. We get to bond about being free thinking hippies in a Trumpian swamp.

DH and I like to think of ourselves as Auntie Katie & Uncle Dave, Doers of Good Deeds. Makes our karma nice. There's just something about what is freely given.

I have a mission in life to share my car anyway. I had one way before any of my friends did. That meant being the Designated Driver and packing my big Valiant with girls needing rides home. I didn't like thinking of them waiting alone at night at BART. I like to think that habit saved someone from assault.

Lots and lots of surgery~ma for your mother, Steph