With Alzheimer's there is what feels like a cataclysmic shift at each progression of the disease. Then, a sort of rhythm of coping becomes an uneasy routine that settles into something that can be managed (as undesirable as the managing might be). Poised between changes is the place I can simulate coping -- it's sort of a "better the devil you know than the one you don't". And that seems an appropriate comparison since there certainly are devilish fingerprints all over this disease. Two and a half weeks after receiving notification of my mother's impending expulsion from A.L., "for her own safety and care", I must have lulled myself into thinking it wouldn't really happen, because the call came like a proverbial thunderbolt yesterday. Two different facilities were recommended and I meticulously copied down the name of each, mechanically thanked the social worker for the information and interrupted her goodbye with a hasty appeal for my mother...