Alzheimer's meets Old Timer's

Mama has Alzheimer's Disease.  She suffers from short term memory loss.  In other words, she can do something, step away for a moment and when she turns back a mere minute later she will probably have forgotten completely about what she had just done.  She and my dad now enjoy a Hobbit's meal routine of first and second breakfasts, followed closely by first and second lunches, a snack or two, dinner and supper and then they finish off the day with a midnight snack, or two... or three.
I also suffer from memory loss, but mine is due to Old Timers Disease.  Or maybe it is a syndrome.  Lets see, a disease is an ailment or condition with a known cause.  A syndrome is is a condition or symptoms with no known cause. Well, I know the cause, it's 'cause I'm old!  My brain has been figuring and conniving for precisely 19,509 days... not including the days spent trying to figure out how to get out of my Mama's uterus.  That's a long time to be processing information.  Even machines eventually wear down.  Most retailers only offer a 15 day return policy and a 3 year warranty on computers so I think 19,509 is pretty darn good.  Now, where was I?
Ah yes, I have Old Timers Disease.  My memory loss is more designer in nature~ I might forget to wash the dishes, but I will never forget to turn the TV on for my ball game.  I may stare blankly at you when you reminisce about something from our past that did not end well for me, but I sure as Sunday will remember every detail of something blackmail worthy from your past.
I cannot even begin to imagine the frustration my father must feel on a daily basis.  Mama doesn't remember and I don't care.  On the plus side, he eats very well.  He just might have to eat alone because Mama likes to nap after she cooks, and I like to nap, period.
Sometimes I wonder, with this 19,509 day old brain of mine, that perhaps being an old timer isn't so bad after all.  If it's worth remembering, I will.  If I forget 19,508 of those days, you can bet that the one day I remember will be a doozie!  Perhaps I will tell Mama about it, and she may laugh for as long as she can remember, and then I will tell her again.
And dad will just sit quietly in his corner, nibbling on his third pizza or fourth sandwich.
This is compatibility at it's finest.