“Sorry, I know you’ve got your job to do, but when you’ve passed seventy, you’ll smile at good cracks like that. Yeah, seventy-one last week. And you’re how old, Dr. . . . ? I’ve forgotten your name. Every minute,” he said as he tapped his temple, “a dozen cortical neurons buzz out like dying flies. The irony is, I’ve published four papers on Alzheimer’s—naturally I forget where, but good journals. Did you know that?”
