Going to a party with ALZHEIMER’S
‘I LONG TO WRITE MORE BOOKS’
It is a Saturday evening. I am getting ready to go to a party. I am not looking forward to it, though it is hard to explain why. I can see the tremor of my fingers as I apply my make-up. I worry that my lipstick is smudged or even on my nose instead of my mouth. When I put on my dress, it takes three attempts: first it is upside down, then it is inside out, and just as I start to despair, I struggle into it, a small victory.
‘You’ve got 20 minutes,’ calls my husband from downstairs.
And although I know that he is trying to
