The life in a retirement village, including mine, is sometimes a living comedy. With age, many individuals in their twilight years find their need to be constantly on guard declines, especially in social life. Some still do, trying to get more attention than others or to muscle in on their presence but no-one really bothers. That’s how things could turn out so hilarious unexpectedly.

The other day, I attended my weekly club as usual and saw that Jane looked quite unhappy. She is in charge of the club and collects the monthly subscription. The reasoning behind her complaint usually is that no one comes to help her. Then she declares “I’m resigning this job and would anyone please take over?” She just repeats this almost every week. As a matter of fact, several people have been helping her in any way and even Alan has volunteered to be in charge. But in the following week, it is a different story. She doesn't want to hand over her book to anyone and just carries on and won't let anyone in for help. Yet, she is very forgetful and getting noticeably worse.

This time, she even pushed her accountant book away, said “please someone take over”. Some people challenged her by saying. “Jane, you said you wanted to step down and hand over your book to Alan”. She replied, “Did I? Not quite yet. I can manage”. She is really a good hearted woman who has worked so hard for the club. Therefore, people don’t want to upset and just accept her explanations. At the end of the session, she started to moan all over again.

Four of us close friends gathered after the club meeting. We were all concerned about Jane's mental condition as well as the club's situation. But no-one could think of how to resolve the problem.

John opened the talk. “It’s a pity that Jane certainly shows her dementia symptoms and is getting worse. What should we do? It’s a terrible disease, isn’t it?” Tom interrupted, “It’s not just her, in fact, we are all in that age group. She is a bit older than us though”.

Suddenly, Alan who often takes a micky out of his wife Jean said, “I think my wife has got dementia”. “Has she?” Tom and John concurrently questioned back in a surprised tone. However, I didn’t vouch for that. When Alan, Jean, and I get together, I usually witness Alan is the one who forgets the words frequently and Jean helps him out with proper wording.

Then John said, “My wife thinks I’ve got it”. I asked him doubtfully, “Do you think so? He said, “I’m not sure. Then I don’t remember if I have got one”. And we all laughed spontaneously. But I didn’t think he had dementia, as he seemed focused and content with life."

Then Tom joined. “I think I’ve got dementia. We all three looked at him and chorused, “Have you? Has Susan (his wife) told you about it?” I asked. “She might’ve”, he added. I asked again, “Do you get confused with things sometimes?” He answered, “No. I don’t. But I forget things now and again”. I said, “We all do at times. It’s called a senior moment. So don’t worry about it. You haven’t got dementia. You are too modest; you underestimate yourself!” “Am I too modest?”, he laughed off, then appeared to be more relaxed.

Before departing, Tom made the last comment to us. “Hey guys, I’ll let you know next week, if I definitely have got dementia. But don’t bank on it. I may not remember these conversations at all”. We again burst out laughing on our way.

How funny! It turned out to be like a Catholic confession. Earlier, we were talking about Jane’s dementia condition, all of sudden, these guys began to own up one by one.

Needless to say, it’s a terribly sad subject we started talking about, ended up laughing. Because there’s no magic wand to avoid the cruel reality which will affect most of us eventually. Although I shared all the laughs with them, I felt in a dilemma - should I laugh or cry?