The Alzheimer's Lie

he stairs, each

it me, a smell I once associ

smell of the beg

rill, a picture of a devoted husba

he best patio chair,

red near her, already f

ying with his trucks near the flowers. Mark, Jess's husband, looked

ranged into a look of mi

ear, you

resented the last perfectly grilled st

ear Brenda, th

accepting it

r smile strained, alr

salad you make, the one with the artichoke hearts and the sp

like

this, I r

d, my efforts t

Oh, Mom, it would be too muc

they were systema

salad was comple

uddenly

rse, s

, already siding with them, a

a low growl, but my fa