I got a buncha painting to do over at dad-in-law's over the next couple days but I'll be back in the early afternoons. We're setting up a new room for the overnight aide so he can keep a closer eye on the old man. Lately, when he's having a bad night, he thinks he's somewhere else and tries to "get home". He weasels himself out of bed (I put bed rails up to make it harder but he scoots out the foot of the bed) and starts packing a suitcase.
I tell ya something. After seeing a once intelligent man go down hill like this (he worked in the NYC Comptroller's Office yet now he can't do simple math), I hope, if I am unfortunate enough to get Alzheimer's, somebody leaves a loaded pistol somewhere within my reach. It's a horrible disease.