"You Mean This Book?" | Seeing My Medical Textbook Used in Memory Care

A small, unexpected moment in a memory care office: seeing my work already living where the real work happens.

I was sitting in an office at Edgewood Spring Wind in Laramie last week, while there to visit a patient in memory care.

I introduced myself to Laurie, the Clinical Services Director. You can tell from her beautiful face that she is a warm, caring person. As I was introducing myself, I mentioned that I had written a medical textbook—the textbook I needed when I first started working in palliative care.

I was sharing why I think the way I do about dementia care, families, and conversations that actually help—and why I structure my support for families of loved ones with dementia to center them, too, because they are so often left out of medical care for their loved one.

Laurie stood up, walked over to her shelf, pulled down a three-ring binder, opened it, and said:

“You mean this book?”

And I nearly screamed with excitement as my brain recognized the front cover of my book, The Arc of Conversation—my medical textbook, sitting there in a memory care office.

Reader, I felt tickled pink.

Not because my name was on the cover—but because the book was being used. Printed. Organized. Living where the real work happens. Not decorative. Not theoretical. Practical.

It was one of those moments that caught me off guard in the best way.

This week, I stopped back by with a bound copy for Laurie. When she asked me to sign it, I was delighted. When she told me she thought the book was very compassionate, I was genuinely honored.

Because compassion is the point.

Dementia care is about helping people—families, staff, and clinicians—feel a little more grounded in situations that are inherently hard. It is about helping people understand what is happening, what comes next, and how to respond without making things worse.

I wrote this book genuinely not expecting a single person to read it. Any time someone tells me they have read it, I am beyond honored.

Small moments like this fill my cup.

They remind me that the work matters.

That quiet, thoughtful care is seen.

And that sometimes, the most meaningful recognition comes without any spotlight at all.

Just a binder on a shelf.

And a simple question:

You mean this book?

—

Amy Shaw, PA

Founder, Better Dementia™