"Later on, I asked her [her mother], "How does it feel?" "What?" "When you can't remember things. Does it frighten you? Do you feel sad?" "Well, not really. I have this condition, you see. It's called osteo...ost..." "You mean Alzheimer's?" I said, helping her out. She looked astonished. "Yes! How on earth did you know that?" "Just a guess..." "I can never remember the name," she explained. "Of course not." "It affects my memory..." "...And that's why you can't remember"?" She frowned and shook her head. "Remember what?" "There's not a single thing I can do about it," she told me when I reminded her. "If there was something I could do and wasn't doing it, then I could feel sad or depressed. But as it is..." She shrugged. "So you're okay with it?" She looked at me, patiently. "I don't have much choice," she explained. "So I may as well be happy."