At age 90 my dad was having problems which were eventually diagnosed as liver failure. Although his body was failing, his mind was as sharp as ever. Knowing his time was coming to an end, he decided he wanted to move to an assisted living center and even chose the one where he wanted to be.
After we got him relocated, he settled in to the routine there with meals prepared for him and round-the-clock care. He particularly liked one of the nurses named Peggy, who it turns out was from the town near where dad was raised. There were also varous therapists who worked with him including the occupational therapist, Sophie, who came by every few days to check on him and give him some things to work on mentally, etc. Part of Sophie’s routine was to ask dad some questions to check his mental faculties. What’s your full name? What’s your date of birth? What day is today? Where were you born? Do you have any children? And so on. She asked him these questions at least once a week.
One day when I was visiting with dad, Sophie came in and asked him her list of questions. He politely answered them all. As Sophie left his room, Peggy entered and as she began checking his temperature, blood pressure pressure, etc the conversation went like this:
Dad (to Peggy): “How well do you know Sophie?”
Peggy: “Pretty well. We’ve both worked here for several years. Why do you ask?”
Dad: “Is she all right? She keeps coming in here and asking me the same questions over and over. I’m worried about her.”
Ken
made my day, thanks for posting it! 
