“What brings you all the way out here?” I had turned off my phone and mail service to discourage casual contact from my few surviving friends. I had no idea where this girl lived, but last I heard Patty was stuck in a VA retirement home Alzheimer’s ward on the other side of the Minnesota border from me. That was a good four-hour drive from here, so I had a sinking feeling that this was one of those “last request” visits.

“My grandfather is very sick,” she said. Here it comes. “Physically he’s in good shape for a man his age, but mentally … Well, I’m worried that he’s going to hurt himself. He can’t walk, you know, since the stroke, but he’s been having these episodes lately where he’ll try to get out of bed and crawl out of the room.

“One of the night nurses actually caught him in the lobby not ten feet away from the entrance. Can you imagine what could have happened to him if he had managed to get out into a dark parking lot, lying there on the ground?”

I could see in her face how much the thought upset her, which earned her a few points. The thought upset me, too.

“Isn’t that common?” I asked, as gently as I could. “Sometimes Alzheimer’s patients become confused, don’t they?”

She nodded. “Yes, but this is different. He might forget where he is, or who you are, but he’s never acted like this before. He’s desperate and frightened, like he’s reliving the war or something.”

“I’m not sure what I can do, Ms …?”

“It’s Anne. I’m sorry, I never told you my name.” She rested her head on her hand for a moment and laughed softly, embarrassed. “I’m not usually like this.”