Last evening after Peter, when leaving had instructed me
to feed Margaret, I asked her
Are you thirsty, would you like a drink? 
Her answer: No, but I think I ought to drink.
She then drank 8 oz of cranberry juice and
4 oz of Riesling, and ate almost all of 2 scrambled eggs.
She slept lightly and moaned much of the night.
This morning, soon after awakening Margaret said,
I've got myself in a situation which I can't manage.
I'm impressed by the disjunction of her poor memory 
and her good judgment.
She has been awake all day. 
I've asked her frequently, every hour or two:
How do you feel? Pretty well.
Are you comfortable? Yes.
Can I do anything for you? No.

I could easily create a situation where she felt
obligated to say that she was thirsty or hungry,
to ask for drink or food.
but I choose not to.

Just now, at 6 p.m. on Sept 14, 2015, she said
I wish I could thank all the people who have made
the situation so good. I told her she needn't thank
me, that I loved her, and that her father had always
said that she was wonderful, and he had been right.