My Grandmother turned 89 this month, and while she has  more than her share of aches and pains some days,  her brain is in high gear.  She still drives, she’s more socially active than anyone I know (regardless of age). She does water aerobics twice a week, eats right, follows her doctors’ advice religiously, and is constantly challenging her brain with computerized sewing machines, artistic endeavors, and historical novels that would bog me down.

Of course, she does forget things, as we all do.  She misses a hair appointment here and there, occasionally loses track of her umpteen doctors appointments, forgets a grandson-in-laws birthday now and then. And, most amusingly?

Last week (after a full day of doctor’s appointments, exercise class, and a trip to Walmart) she pulled up to the drugstore drive-thru, paid for the prescriptions with a check, closed her purse and drove off – without her pills.

She realized her mistake not a half a block away, but tired from her busy day, she decided not to bother going back. The pharmacy called my mother (her daughter) who picked up the pills and delivered them, laughing.

Grandmother, amused at her ditzy moment, shared the episode with her friends, who (almost) all laughed along with her.

I said “almost all” of her friends laughed, because she has this one dear, always-concerned friend who didn’t laugh.  Instead, she cornered my mother, and whipped out a list of everything my grandmother had forgotten, misplaced or mixed up over the past few months.

Mom politely requested the list, and said, essentially, thank you for the concern.  She spoke with my grandmother, who was a little concerned about someone “making lists” of her flaws, and agreed not to tell this particular friend anything else she might forget.

She brought it up with her doctor the next week.

The doctor laughed – not in a dismissive or belittling way, but in a “she thinks YOU have dementia??” way. He  quickly put my grandmother at ease, said he wished he had as few lapses as she did, and that if it weren’t for her age, no one would look twice at the moments of forgetfulness.  Then he agreed that while the friend’s concern was touching, maybe it would be best not to share any more humorous stories about mind-glitches with her.

What’s most interesting to me about this whole thing?
My grandmother’s support system worked.

• –The pharmacists recognized that she did something out of character, so they called her daughter.
• – A friend thought she noticed a problem, made notes, and told Mom.
• – Mom assessed the situation, and talked to my Grandmother
• – My Grandmother then talked to her doctor, who had the knowledge and familiarity with her to assess her cognitive ability, and the authority to reassure her.

In a sense, this is another perspective on why social contact is an important part of brain health.  Not only does it seem to reduce the risks of age-related cognitive problems, but having a social network means someone will notice if we start becoming more forgetful, or experience changes in our personalities or habits.  Sure, my grandmother’s friend over-reacted a bit, and I wouldn’t be comfortable with a someone keeping track of my forgetfulness, either.  But that friend is a part of a system that works.  And I’m glad to know she’s there, even if she does play the role of busy-body, just a bit.

Social networks of family and friends help keep us alert, active, and mentally stimulated.  They also serve as a safety net, noticing for problems we may not notice in ourselves.

And that’s pretty important.