I have commented a number of times about the fact that the person who has AD recognizes that she has it and finds it frustrating. For example, last night when I arrived home after visiting my Dad at Mountain Valley, Kate said, “Finally, you’re home. One day I’ll be dead, and you’ll still be visiting with your dad.” After that she apologized, and said, I’m just so frustrated.” I asked, “You mean by the general situation (trying to be subtle instead of “your AD.). She said, “Yes,” and then, “Let’s not talk about it.” We then went to the kitchen where we put some things together for dinner. I had cooked chicken thighs over the weekend. I made a chicken soup, and she sliced tomatoes and cooked green beans. Then we had a delightful evening eating outside with a glad of wine.