B Years ago as my step father was sliding into the bizarre horror of Alzeheimer’s, he would sit on the blue couch in the living room and say, over and over again, “What am I doing here?” That puzzled…
B Years ago as my step father was sliding into the bizarre horror of Alzeheimer’s, he would sit on the blue couch in the living room and say, over and over again, “What am I doing here?” That puzzled…