When my father was declining from Alzheimer’s disease, one of the things my siblings and I used to argue about was whether to correct his confusions.

For example, my father, in his impaired state, expected his live-in aide to work for room and board and would lash out at her (and us) whenever he learnt that she had been paid. My siblings tended to think that it was fine to lie to him about matters like this if it helped him (and us) get through one of his rancorous moods.