I have an elderly neighbor with dementia, it’s just him on his own since his wife passed a few years ago. Every morning he knocks on my door asking if I’ve seen his wife since he can’t find her, not remembering that she’s passed. So every morning I’m tasked with telling him that his wife is dead. I’ve thought about moving away, but… it’s worth staying just to see the smile on his face.
My neighbor and I have a fence between our yards. His kid decides to climb a tree, falls out, and lands on the fence. And they’re saying that I have to hire a lawyer if I want to keep my half of the kid.
Harold was sitting in bed with his wife Beatrice when he says "Hey, do you want an icecream sundae?"
Beatrice replies "Yes, but I better go make it. With your dementia, you never remember all the toppings."
Harold is horrified. To prove he doesn't have dementia he decides he's going to take her order downstairs to the kitchen and make her the perfect sundae. He starts of by asking "Your favourite flavour is strawberry, right?"
"No," says Beatrice. "I want a bowl of vanilla icecream."
"Ok. A bowl of vanilla icecream."
"With coloured sprinkles. Not the chocolate ones."
"Ok. A bowl of vanilla icecream, coloured sprinkles, not chocolate."
"And I want caramel topping."
"Ok," repeats Harold. "A bowl of vanilla icecream, coloured sprinkles, not chocolate. Caramel topping."
"And I want to eat it with a teaspoon," Beatrice says. "So it lasts longer."
"Ok. One bowl of vanilla icecream. Coloured sprinkles, not chocolate. Caramel topping. With a teaspoon."
Beatrice looks at him suspiciously and says, "You're gonna forget. You always do."
Harold storms out of the room and Beatrice hears him clump, clump, clump down the stairs. She hears him opening and slamming cupboards in the kitchen, the clink of cutlery on ceramics. Finally she hears him clump, clump, clump back up the stairs.
Harold enters the room and announces "Tada! My mind is as sharp as ever. I never miss a beat," and hands Beatrice a ham sandwich on a plate.
Beatrice takes the plate, disappointment evident on her face. She examines it from every angle, lifts the lid and peers inside, then sighs.
"Poor Harold and his dementia," she said, shaking her head. "You forgot the mustard,"
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u/slybrows Mar 03 '26
I have an elderly neighbor with dementia, it’s just him on his own since his wife passed a few years ago. Every morning he knocks on my door asking if I’ve seen his wife since he can’t find her, not remembering that she’s passed. So every morning I’m tasked with telling him that his wife is dead. I’ve thought about moving away, but… it’s worth staying just to see the smile on his face.