Knock and say hello.
Ran businesses, then built software, and never stopped tinkering. Shot competitive archery into his seventies and still calls himself an archer. Rode a KTM until his licence went. Ask him about it and you will get twenty minutes.
Fifty-one years married. She is in room 14, two doors down. He will ask where she is several times a day, and the asking is about wanting her nearby more than about forgetting. The answer is two doors down, and if he wants to go, take him.
Noise, and too many people in the room. The fix is fewer people, not more reassurance. Turn the television off, sit down so you are not standing over him, and give him the sentence twice if you need to.
He does not drink and never has, so do not offer. He would rather be told the truth than protected from it. He plays guitar badly and knows it.
Illustrative concept only. The resident shown is fictional. Not a clinical record.