Alzheimer Road to Hell

Prognosis for the number of demented in Europe until 2030

My dotty dad has an advanced stage of Alzheimer's. Actually, I don't think of him as my dad really any more. He's a zombie, a physical shell that looks like my dad, but the inside is empty. He's more-or-less doubly incontinent but refuses to wear pads (imagine the washing), prowls around looking for chocolate and biscuits to eat and means of getting out (to where?), stands too near getting in the way and watches what you do, blankly, but can't help, stands with his hands on his hips being high and mighty, looking stroppy and refusing to do anything, not because he doesn't want to do it, but because that's the attitude of the moment. He can't feed himself, can't get a drink, can't go (or even find) to the loo unaided. Yet he goes into the loo to flush it, empty. He gets up in the night and opens every door upstairs several times. Getting a good night's sleep is impossible. He can't dress himself or undress. He is totally and utterly dependent. He would die if left for a week, surrounded by poo. He has no memory, no speech, doesn't recognise his family or anyone else and is turning nasty and menacing.

What is the point of this person? Beyond existence for the sake of it, that is.

His wife, my mother, is having to care for this man who fucked up a large part of her life, who she doesn't love, and who is now fucking up her old age. He is in the peak of physical health what with good meals, comfy home, treats out, no stress. It's the perfect illness for the lazy man. My mother is at her wit's end with anxiety, fatigue, exhaustion, loathing, various serious physical ailments and the drudge of cleaning up after disgusting accidents. He is driving her to an early grave.

But what is the point of him?

Does she want to lose her home to finance care for him in the lap of care-home luxury? No, she doesn't. Does she want to live in a crappy old tiny flat because that's all she could afford after he fucked up and the equity release taken out to cover him has been paid back? No, she doesn't. She reckons she's given enough already. She's 76 and it's her turn. Her turn to live the life that's left to her, in her own home.

Is that too much to ask?

What is the point of keeping someone alive who has no concept of anything? Assisted suicide doesn't even come into it because he's way too far gone to even know what life and death are. What is the point of him now? Apart from killing my mother.