To reach the Alzheimer-riddled.

I have a captive audience. That is, when I'm with my Alzheimer-riddled friend Ron. I give him no choice. I do the talking. Some 95 percent of the time. And Ron is catching at least half of what I'm saying. Which ain't bad. He understands babble. For instance. When we go for a walk or a wheelchair ride. I'm constantly describing what we are seeing. The snow. The trees. The sky. A giant concrete water reservoir. A cell phone transmission tower. A squirrel. A deer. A guy walking his dog. The cawing of a crow. I want Ron to see and hear all this stuff, too. To absorb the scenery.  The sounds, too. To catch the moment.  Even if he forgets it all a few minutes later. The important thing. Ron's mind is being stimulated. With a vital assist from me. His attentive care-giver of the moment. Telling him. What he's supposed to see and hear. I'm trying to make it easier. For Ron to use what's still left of his wonderful mind. Ron is so very, very intelligent. Which means that even if he's lost a big percentage of his cognitive abilities/powers. He's still got a lot left. And it needs stimulation. Not merely now and then. But daily. That's the responsibility of his care-givers.  Especially the adept ones. Like me. Yes, with proper care-giving. Ron finds peace and contentment. Even a significant degree of understanding. He knows that I am his friend and helpful and truly caring care-giver. Yes, that is what it takes. To reach the Alzheimer-riddled. --Jim Broede