I am me. I am a daughter, granddaughter, step-daughter, sister, wife, mom, grandma, etc.
I am someone who’s life has been greatly impacted by dementia. I am a caretaker, counselor, memory keeper & reminder, a strong shoulder, medical & legal advocate, the one to call in the middle of the night, center of keeping everything for everyone else organized, and so much more.
I am the one who has to understand & explain the un-explainable. I am the one who has to stand strong, with a comforting look, calm voice, & dry eyes while others cry. I am the one who goes behind closed doors when the tears need to flow because everyone else looks to me for reassurance. I am the one who has been the caretaker for a long time, but now when certain spells with dementia & accompanying delusions occur is looked at as evil or the enemy by my own father. I am the one who, when those spells pass, stands there & acts like the terrible things were never said to or about me.
I could go on & on. But, simply put, I am me. I also happen to be the daughter of someone who has become one of the faces of dementia. I am someone whose life has been turned upside down and just has to roll with the punches, so to speak. I, in a sense, am someone who has also become, through my father, one of the faces of dementia.