My father was a great doctor, a fine magician and a mean saxophone player. But around the time he turned 77 years old, he started slurring his words and spending long periods of time sitting and staring into space.
I suspected he had begun a gradual slide into dementia. Given our family history and his age, it seemed inevitable. Then I happened to take a glance at his medicine cabinet.
There were over 100 bottles of pills, in an astounding array of shapes, colors and sizes. Each had dosage...Full Story