Alzheimer's: Will I Be Next‪?‬

The day was cold and we were walking at a fast clip. "Jesse, I need to talk to you about Mom."

Jesse took another step, then suddenly stopped and spun around to face me. I was at least six inches taller, but amazingly, in that instant, it seemed as if we were standing there eye to eye. His gaze was hard and uncompromising. "She doesn't have Old Timers!"

I blinked at the pronunciation. Old Timers? Was he serious? Yes, a second look at that gritted, desperate expression told me my stepfather was dead serious. Jesse had tricked his mind into attaching this folksy, homespun name to the disease so it wouldn't sound quite so sinister.