Well, Mom decided to go to bed at 5 o'clock this evening. She might have made if she hadn't felt the need to come tell us that she was going to bed 15-20 times each hour. She had to explain what she was going to do and why. Each time she came out, she had a clever and original variation that we hadn't heard... since the last time. All of the usual suspects were present: anger, frustration, confusion, delusion, self-pity, drama and fear. She would demand that we go speak to the people in her room and then become angry when they left before we got there. She forgot where her room was in the time it took her to walk the 8 feet from her door to the living room. Her pains ranged from her feet, to her chest, to her stomach and back to her feet. (I worry about the pains when she complains of the same thing twice in a row.) She was scared. She was cold. She was worried that she hadn't seen her mother. She was angry that I hadn't seen mine. She was upset when the wallet drove down the street with a red light on top. (That might bother me, too.) There was a horse on the front porch. Someone took her clothes, they were stolen and she had nothing left.
I could go on. And on. I am not trying to make light of her situation. I know she is sick and I cannot imagine the terror of believing everything that she sees and says. But, having given her a pill when I saw this beginning, it was extremely frustrating to have to watch for several hours just to realize that medicine never even touched her condition. I had to wait and, in turn, put us all through a frustrating evening and was finally able to give her something to make her sleep at 9. That took another hour before her body gave in to the drug. So, if you are keeping count? That was 5 hours of non-stop terror for her and mind boggling frustration for us.
This disease is nothing more than a cowardly thief. It has no compassion and no remorse. Its true evilness lies in the fact that it abuses and bullies its victims for years on end with no respite.