Riding an exercise bike at the YMCA, and CNN is reporting a story on the big screen. Although I can’t hear the TV, it is apparent that the story is about a place called Dementia village in the Netherlands. At this point, I don’t need to hear the TV. I can file my own report.
I’m imagining the advertising brochure for Dementia Village. It looks as follows:
1. Welcome to Dementia Village where everyone forgets your name.
2. Fred walked off. We have a vacancy.
3. Lost your meds? Not a problem, just borrow some from your neighbor.
4. Came home to the wrong apartment? That’s okay, so did everybody else.
5. One less for dinner-seconds on prune whip.
Just think of the excitement for the residents as they get to meet brand new neighbors everyday.
And the road trips! Start in New York City and end up in Pakistan.
Would you really live in a place called Dementia village? Do you want people addressing their Christmas cards to Bob at Dementia village? Couldn’t they have picked something more friendly, such as Zombie Village, or Night of the Living Dead estates?
These are things I need to know before I check in. And I will check in. But when I do, I will write about it, the same story every day