We like to believe our many loved ones don't think like this or feel this way. The reality is that they do. They think exactly like this, because I work with dementia patients and every part of this letter is true. So visit more, and remind them of that love they can no longer remember.

Dear loved ones,

A stranger wakes me up today. She scares me. Sure, she seems nice. She is young and she smiles a lot. She answers my questions when I ask "Where am I?" "How long have I been here?" "Why am I here?" But, she scares me still the same after I realize that she knows more about me than I do myself.

I feel alone, a lot. I often wonder if my family knows where I am and I wander the halls looking for you. But every hallway leads to a locked door and I end up walking the same corridor that circles around, again, and again, and again. I feel strangely close to resembling those tigers that paced back and forth in the zoos that I used to visit. Sometimes the workers walk with me when they have a little free time. I know they try to help and it does for a fleeting moment. The nice worker lady walked off a cliff in the hallway and it terrified me. I don't understand why she got frustrated with me or why she kept saying "they are just shadows on the floor from the lights in the hallway, not cliffs. I am okay and so are you." But I am too scared, and my body freezes unwilling to move forward and unwilling to move backwards.

At lunch time they tell me when it is time to eat, even if I am not hungry yet. They pour my water, juice, and my semi-warm, bland coffee. Then I am given the meal that was (or wasn't) assigned for today. I eat all my food because I am very thankful for the meal. I offer to pay but the worker lady says the meal is all taken care of. I want to at least tip or clean my dishes, but she says that is all taken care of too.

In the afternoon we have "activity time." Today we play BINGO. I used to love the game, I know that. In fact, I remember a lot of "used to's." But I can't remember how to play anymore and even if I did, I can't hear the worker lady trying to help me. So I go back to my room, sit in the dark, and cry.

The nice worker lady came into my "apartment" tonight to tell me it is my shower night. I don't want to shower, but she doesn't take no for an answer. She washes my face, brushes my teeth, washes my hair and cleans my body. She dries me off. Picks out my pajamas and dresses me. As I leave the bathroom I saw a stranger looking through the window at me. I panic and start to shake as the worker lady tells me "that is your reflection in the mirror." Still upset, the worker lady shows me some pictures of my family that I keep in my room and I begin to feel more calm. I wish that my family would come and visit. I look at the pictures of my children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I tell the worker lady I would like to call my mommy and daddy because they will be very worried that I am not home after dark.

My head hurts. My eyes hurt. I wish someone would take the pain away. I try to tell the worker lady that I am in pain, that I need help, but the words coming out of my mouth are not making any sense. I am thinking one thing, but jumbled up words and fragmented thoughts are all I can manage to say. I grow more and more frustrated because no matter how hard I try, or how hard she tries, she cannot understand me. I yell at her, she is dumb. I tell her to leave my apartment and I raise my fist at her.

I lay down on a twin sized bed that is protected by a pad in case I have an accident in the middle of the night. I wonder where my husband is and why he is not laying next to me. The room is dark and I hear voices. Some are real. They are all real to me. My nephew lives in the attic above my room and he is being so loud that I can't sleep. I am afraid that if I close my eyes, he will come down and steal all my money and jewelry.

A stranger wakes me up today...