This is my grandmother. She doesn’t remember my name, but usually she recognizes me. She’s always happy to see me. She doesn’t like her environment much though. She compares living in an “assisted living community” to being confined in prison. The food is terrible. The nurses always tell her what to do, hounding her if she isn’t in the dining room on schedule. She calls them “activists.” A light bulb has been broken in her room for awhile, and though she has voiced her complaints, nobody will fix it…or perhaps they haven’t had the time?