When Marion got home from work, there was some kind of strange smell in the house. It’s not a good smell. Some kind of threatening burning smell.

“Breast?” she called. But Alzheimer Granny was asleep on the couch.

“Breast?” Marion said, gently shaking her mother awake. Then Marion realized that the smell was coming from the kitchen and she was getting stronger.

He ran to the kitchen. No, all the burners on the stove were turned off. It wasn’t that. Or was it her? A trickle of smoke was coming out of the oven. She opened the oven door.

“Oh Lord!” she screamed. Something was there. Fire. And it sure didn’t look like food. Quickly, she put on oven mitts and removed the contents of the oven, turning off the burner at the same time. She dumped everything in the sink and turned on the cold water. The hiss of steam and the wail of smoke combined to fill the air.

At that moment, the back opened and Jill entered.

“Hello, Marion, I just – oh dear, what’s that?”

“That’s what I wonder,” Marion said grimly.

Together they pulled at the smoking pile.

“My God,” Jill said with a laugh, “This would look like sheets.”

“Bed sheets?”

They looked at each other and then Marion said, “Mom, could you come here for a minute please?”

Alzheimer Granny walked into the kitchen and stared at the sink.

“What did you do, honey?”

“I guess the question is, what did YOU do, mom?”

His mother looked down at her feet.

“All right?”

“Oh honey, I was just trying to help,” she whispered. Jill went to stand next to Alzheimer Granny.

“Why were those sheets in the oven, Mom?” Marion asked.

“I dont know.”

Jill said helpfully, “I bet your mom was trying to dry them off.”

“Yes, I was,” she pouted with Alzheimer’s Granny.

“Dry them? In the oven?” Marion’s voice rose with each sentence.

Jill took her elbow and firmly led her out of the kitchen and out into the backyard.

“Sit!” Marion sat down on the garden bench.

“It’s driving me crazy!” Marion hissed.

“No, she’s just doing the best she can with dementia. You heard her, she was drying the sheets for you.”

“In the oven?”

“Honey,” Jill said very kindly to her friend, “your mom has Alzheimer’s. She was thinking like she had dementia. And by the way, she’s been feeding the squirrels cat food.”

“Why do that?”

“Because she has dementia, honey. She can’t think as well as she used to. It’s her disease. Don’t blame her for it.”

“Does this mean I can’t leave her alone anymore?”

“Well, that’s possible. It certainly means you have to childproof the house. Turn off the gas supply to the oven. There’s a faucet right behind the stove. No matches. That sort of thing.”

“Oh Jill, what am I going to do?”

“Why don’t you and me help make a safety plan? I do it all the time for my patients,” Jill was a community nurse making home visits to a mostly elderly clientele.

“You could do that?”

“I’ll make a nice dinner, okay? How about you and I can work on it tonight after your mom goes to bed?”

“Oh thank you so much! I should have done this sooner.”

“Well, maybe this is the right time now. Go calm down your mom. She’s a little upset. Tell her you’re sorry.”

Marion frowned.

“Stop right there or I’ll poison your dinner.”

“See you tonight,” Jill said.

Marion walked in to find her mom sitting on the couch, still looking upset.

“Oh mom,” Marion sighed, “what are we going to do?”

“We’ll manage, honey!”