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question and no one really knew the answer to it. I was just about to step in and ask the doctor to move on, but my grandfather answered him.

"I don't rightly know," he said thoughtfully. "Not many can really tell these days. If I had to make a guess, I would say Hillary."

My mother, the doctor and I all laughed. "Did he get it right?" I asked the doctor.

"I'm not to sure about that one either," the doctor said, shaking his head. "He's right, not many can tell these days."

We learned that taking my grandfather to an all-you-can-eat buffet was easier. He could actually see the food and pick what he wanted. Not that we went out to eat often, but we did occasionally. He loved to do something new and, honestly, sometimes we were just to exhausted to cook

On one such occasion, everything went well. There wasn't any outburst, throwing food, or even spilled food. We were thankful and happy. When the meal ended, we went to pay up front at the cash register. It took both of us to get him in the car, so as I paid for the meal, my mother watched my grandfather. He looked at the pictures on the wall. He nodded at people as they came and went. I had just gotten the change back and turned around when I saw what he was about to do. I couldn't do or say anything fast enough. He pulled the fire alarm! The noise scared him and, glory be, he ran outside. My mom and I in hot pursuit.

We still eat in that restaurant. We always smile when we see the little red box on the wall because it reminds us of that time he ate well, had a good time, and activated the fire alarm.

My mom and I, obviously, were my grandfather's primary caregivers. We were his only caregivers for several years. At that time, he always knew me. Not my name, but he did remember the nickname he gave me - "Cissy." He didn't know my mom, though. This bothered her, but she tried not to let it show. One of the ways she dealt with her hurt was to over-eat.

One afternoon, she was cooking his lunch and I was playing a game that would have been dominoes during his pre-Alzheimer's days. He was quite talkative that day. I was thrilled; he wasn't talking much anymore.

"I sure do love it when come over," he was told me. "You are so much nicer than that other one."

I smiled and made my move. My mom could hear everything and I didn't want her to be upset or think he didn't like her.

My grandfather went on. "You know the one I'm talking about. The bossy one."

"She just tries to help us out," I explained.

"She needs to help out, all the way

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