I question whether the occasional forgetfulness of older folks necessarily ties into on-coming dementia or some such disease. A possibility - -of course, but many old folks become forgetful and confused at times yet live to a ripe old age, still continuing to function. And even the term "old", in these forums, can mean almost anyone over 50, depending on that person's view on aging.
I'm 87 and my wife is 84. Are we forgetful - -you better believe it. Is it a sudden onset in the last couple of years - -not at all. I probably started to become forgetful (compared to my younger self) when I was in my late 60's. Worse today? I'd say so, but not disabling in any way.
That in no way compares to folks who do start to be ravaged in their later years. I only mention the above to point out, IMHO, that there is a certain amount of mental fade out for almost all of us but many pass away never contracting any "mental disease" known to modern science.
If I could step back to a certain decade in my life, it would be my late 50s and early 60s, at which time I drove my husband crazy, so to speak, as I embarked on a crusade of sorts, volunteering both at a psychiatric hospital as editor of the in-house magazine, but also as an entertainment caregiver in a nursing home, also on a volunteer basis.
My dear mother had been "dumped" (I can't think of a better word) into a nursing home for dementia by my siblings, while I was living afar once more. Seeing at the time I was on a crusade against elder abuse, I decided to embark my studies on life in a nursing home, and felt ashamed at how families treated their loved ones incarcerated/dumped/abandoned in nursing homes...for their own good, mind you.
The first thing I did was to put away my preconceptions and plans, and prepare to play the game with the people you meet at a nursing home. My goal was not to judge but to bring joy...smiles, feelings back to the forefront...to make the old dears feel like someone once more, and not just a discard on a shelf.
A question that they always asked every day, throughout the day, was "What time is it?"--which kind of told you how lost they felt.
And, so I began my campaign of care. I collected old purses and put cards etc. in them and passed them out. A purse is something they all remembered and yearned for. Then there were stuffies or dolls (all safety-checked, of course), which turned into their babies of days gone by, and brought tears to my eyes. And, I listened to one and all.
My dear Mom, strapped in her wheelchair, was on a plane on a trip to visit old friends, and advised me very solemnly to leave, as her plane was about to take off! In other words, you got on the same page as they were.
I would come the next day and saw a group of ladies with their purses in hand off on a shopping trip. My Mom's trip went very well in spite of a bit of turbulence. All in all, I tried to bring a bit of fun...joy...memories, and was paid tenfold by seeing aged faces...the forgotten ones...happy with smiles which sure made my day.
I was asked to return after two years when my Mom passed, but, alas, the nature of my life was off on the road again...