Great story. I know, a bit sad, but it is real. The researchers, primarily the neuro-psychometrists, would have me follow a script when the mystery guests would show up and then journal the results.
The main care function tool, as you learned, absent the research, was 'agree and redirect', validating the perception, accepting it and then moving on to something else. Generally, though not always, the perception would fade or be replaced by something else.
When the aliens in the air conditioning vents showed up, I'd ask 'Are they bothering you today? Would you like me to close the vents so they won't look at you? What would you like me to do? Oh, look at this old quilt. Did you make that? That's beautiful. Yada yada.
Watch out for sleep deprivation if in direct care if you haven't yet experienced it. It about killed me. The researchers were tracking me too, physically and psychologically, while I was in direct care. That ended once she was placed in a locked institution.
Helluva way to go, especially after being so healthy, scarily so, until 80.
When I took a look at your page I was reminded of a color I saw just today out in the field by the oak tree, where I took the wind jig from one of the walks and placed it at the grave last year of the cat who hung out with me in the aftermath and helped keep me sane. The purple and the writing on the jig were still there but the plastic had degraded and it didn't spin anymore. Whenever I see purple I'm always reminded of the walks. Darned good exercise too
