If one didn't have dementia.

My dementia-riddled friend Ron lives in a swank idyllic setting. One in which I could live. In peace. And tranquility.  But I suspect that Ron is mostly unaware of where he’s living. And unaware of the meaningfulness of the setting.  When I talk to Ron, I try to make him imagine that he has three homes. This one. Plus the lake shore home in Forest Lake, where for several years he lived with daughter and son-in-law. Plus his cabin in Grand Marais on Lake Superior. Where he spent some of his retirement years.  Mostly before dementia. I want him to pretend. That he’s really well-off. That is, in his current assisted living place. Out in the countryside.  I tell Ron he’s blessed. When maybe he isn’t.  Because I suspect that Ron would be much better off if he lived in a more Spartan place. But received the best of care. For his dementia. Instead, Ron is looked after by two care-givers that have responsibility for 11 patients. They are spread thin. They could be better trained, too. But that’s not where the money goes in this assisted living business. Instead, it goes into swank facilities. Into the kind of luxury living one could really appreciate and savor – if one didn’t have dementia. –Jim Broede