The wheelchair romps.

My dear sweet dementia-riddled Jeanne was confined to a custom-made wheelchair for the last three years of her life. But still, we went outdoors. Daily. Often for 5-to-10-mile jaunts. Even in the winter. In Minnesota. Jeanne was tucked in a thermal sleeping  bag. I suspect the  fresh air was good and stimulating for Jeanne. The movement, too. Perhaps it gave Jeanne the illusion of walking or running. Maybe she noticed the scenery.  The sunset. The trees. The dogs. Nature, period.  She always loved the outdoors.  When Jeanne returned, she seemed stimulated.  More with it. Often, we played recorded music on our wheelchair excursions. Among her favorites. Vivaldi. The Seasons.  --Jim Broede