It’s only been 6 weeks, but I am always full of nerves & dread (& guilt) as I head over to see my mother in MC. It’s a horrible feeling. I’m not sure if it’s because she blames me for her being there, that I sometimes find her in rough shape - angry, miserable & terrified, or just the uneasy feeling of not knowing what to expect and not being able to control it.
Her diagnosis is brutal; late onset bvFTD. I didn’t ever imagine it would be this hard. I guess I had a “rose colored glasses” belief that she would - in the end - have memory loss, but be fairly pleasant & content while living her last days with me - and I would hold her hand in her own bed when she passed.