The Struggle to Communicate

Many of my entries are in dialog form because that’s where the essence of the disease and the losses show up. When my fellow caregivers read some of these, they howl in recognition and in shared frustration.
Today:
Me: The squirrels knocked the lid off the the bird feeder, that green metal top.
Him: Where?
Me: The feeder outside the office window.
Him: Where?
Me: The window next to where I sit at the computer.
Him: What?
(This is exactly word for word written down dialog, mind you.)
Me: I think I should go outside and find the top.
Him: To what?
Me: The birdfeeder.
Him: Where?
Me: Could you take the birdfeeder down?
Him: I’ve done it for years and years. Show it to me.
Me: Okey dokey.
Him: Here’s the problem. These papers are on the table.
Me: (Moving them) I think it’s fine now.
Him: I’ve done this for weeks and weeks. The problem is you pile stuff up there. That’s why the top wasn’t on right.
Me: Ok. Can I help?
Him: No. I’ve done this for years and years.
Struggling to reach out the window to the feeder (remember his brain won't let this man see so everything he does is a true adventure), he says: This table wasn’t here before. That’s the problem.
Me: The (wooden library) table has been there for years and years.
Him: It has?