In the wonderful Alzheimer's world.

Alzheimer-riddled Ron was being ornery. And I couldn’t blame him. He was being roused from deep sleep. Late in the morning. Because I had come to visit. The nurses aides had a handful. Persuading him to get with it. I tried to imagine being Ron. Abruptly shaken from a sweet and pleasant and clear-headed dream. And then brought back to reality. In his dementia world. I’d be pissed, too. But the aides and I knew what to do. We cajoled Ron. We exuded good vibes. We treated Ron like a member of a close-knit family. Wasn’t long before Ron was smiling. And laughing. I looked Ron straight in the eyes. And told him he looked like a dapper Norwegian gentleman. There was good-nature banter. Back and forth. I pointed away. Asked Ron to look at the elephant on the other side of the room. As he saw me sneak a strawberry from his breakfast plate. Ron knew what I was up to. I keep putting his sense of humor to the test. A way of stimulating his mind. Others do it unknowingly. Like Norma, the one with Tourette’s Syndrome. 'I’m gawd-damn cold,’ she blurted. A signal for an attentive aide to bring her a black and white stripped shawl. ‘Look, look,’ I shouted. ‘A zebra.’ Ron caught on. He could see the transformation. Norma had become a zebra. In fact, the whole day had become a magical delight. Ron was having a rollicking good time. As I wheeled him out the door and down the ramp. Into the great outdoors.  Where we followed the paved trail. Deep into the primeval forest. We would see white-tailed deer. Maybe even a bear. That’s the way life should be. In the wonderful world of Alzheimer’s. –Jim Broede