Anonymous wrote:OP here, thank you all for supportive comments. I am actually feeling okay about everything--I think I've grieved a lot already, and I'm sure there's more in the future. It's just such a strange process, like watching someone regress from adult back to toddlerhood in a way, but without all the joy, and knowing that there's an end soon.
What I can say is that I fretted so much about her when she was in middle stages and at a memory care that was really not that great, and I was always running over there to troubleshoot, or take her to the doctor, or deal with some emotional crises. Now that she has moved to a place that is so much better and where she gets much more attention and the staff is far better trained, she is calmer. Maybe it's also the progression of the disease, she's less agitated but more cognitively compromised. Mostly I am gratified by the knowledge that I have done the best for her that I possibly can. And since she is so close now (about a 15 min drive tops) it is easy for me to pop in quickly for 15-20 minutes, check in, bring her a hot chocolate, without it being a huge burden on me or take too much time away from my kids/spouse/job. The memory care staff really handle everything else, including medical needs, so that I can finally just be there as a daughter and not a stressed-out caregiver.
This has been the hardest part for me watching my dad develop dementia. What should we call it - reverse milestones? The sorrowful lasts instead of joyful firsts. Every time I hug him goodbye I wonder if this is the last time he will remember who I am.
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