Sad and yet strangely touching story about dementia and sociologist Irwin (not Erving) Goffman in the New York Times.
Once as a cop I remember spending hours with a very nice and well dressed elderly man. He knew all his info except where he lived. I drove him around the neighborhood. I walked with him around the Monument Street Market asking other people if they knew him. Nothing. Finally, as my shift was nearing its end, he saw a church and said he wanted to be dropped off. The church was closed, but he insisted he knew that church and everything would be OK there. So I let him go.
It felt good to try and help somebody, though I'm not certain if I actually did.