As my mother's Alzheimer's progressed, money - cash in particular, became an abstract idea. BUT she had to have her black vinyl purse before we left the house. Going out to dinner was always a roll of the dice. Would she eat the food? Did the restaurant have stairs? What would she say out loud in public? My worries mostly. Many times when the bill arrived she would lean over to me and confess in a hushed voice that she didn't have any money in her purse. It was super sweet and sad as were so many everyday things we took for granted and lost.