How she slept, what tonight looks like, what the family already did.
Today is the screen you open in the morning with your coffee. It reads last night from her watch, if she wears one, and from whoever logged what. It tells you what tonight is likely to look like, based on the last two weeks, and it shows what the family has already done, so nobody does it twice and nothing is missed.
No dashboards, no graphs to interpret. Three cards, in plain words.
One tap for a meal, a mood, a medication, an incident. The record every sibling and doctor can read.
The log replaces the notebook on the kitchen counter and the group chat nobody can search. A meal, a mood, a medication, a fall, a refusal, a good afternoon. One tap, by whoever was there, with the time and the name attached.
At the end of the month it becomes the summary your doctor has been asking for, exported in one tap. What she ate, how she slept, what happened and when.
Help in the moment, at 3 a.m., written for the situation you are actually in.
The guide is not a library. It is a short list of the situations caregivers actually face: she is up at night, she refuses the shower, she does not recognise you, she will not eat, she wants to go home when she is home. For each one, three steps, on one screen, adjusted to her stage and to what today’s log says.
It always starts with the same question: is she in pain, is she unwell, does she need the toilet. Only then does it talk about behaviour.
Everyone who helps, with a role, a task and a turn to rest.
The circle is everyone around her: you, your siblings, a professional carer, a neighbour, whoever helps. Each person has a role and a few tasks, so the one who lives closest is not carrying everything, and the one who lives far away has something real to do.
And it has a turn to rest. Oramemory notices when one person has done everything for ten days, and it says so to the others, so you do not have to.
Her music, her story, her routine. The part she opens herself.
Her space is a different app on the same record. Almost nothing on the screen: what is happening now, what comes next, one large button for her music, her photos, her story, and one for reaching you. No monitoring language, nothing that says patient, no test of her memory.
She keeps her dignity and her autonomy for as long as possible, and you keep the record. Both are true at the same time.
Oramemory connects to the watch she already wears and the devices already in her home. Her sleep and her steps arrive in the log by themselves. The lights soften when the evening comes. Her music starts on the speaker in the room she is in. If she gets up at night, you know before she reaches the door.
Everything it collects has its own switch, on or off, and she or her legal representative decides.
What we hold, and what we never do →On iPhone from 20 November. The first fifty families keep it free for life.
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