I am so lucky compared to most people on here I don't have too much stress. My mum is in the early stages, is still in her own home and although I need to go round twice a day and spend hours of time with her, I can still come home to my own bed.
I had an evening a few weeks ago though, which I feel encapsulated the whole awful emotional / negative cycle. We'd had a reasonably good afternoon, been out, had tea and cake in the car at a well known local beauty spot, but had to go home early because of bad weather. I was concerned that mum hadn't had enough exercise. I decided to put some music on, and while we were listening to Nat King Cole, I suggested we do a little dancing. (swaying from one foot to another, but I thought it might be fun.) Mum got up and seemed to be enjoying herself holding my hands and swaying about to the music, when she suddenly announced she was taking her trousers off because they were too tight.
I gently told her that no, this wasn't a good idea, and she got really ratty in that 'small child' way she gets, so I said we should stop dancing and sit back down. She must have realized I was a bit cross because she then started hanging round my neck like the town drunk, singing 'Oh I love you I love you.' at the top of her voice. I managed to persuade her to sit down AND keep the trousers on, but I was so upset - Mum was a ward sister, for God's sake, responsible for people's lives, and here she was, apparently totally unhinged.
Once she sat down, she forgot all about dancing and sat, smiling round serenely. Her sight is dreadful, so she couldn't see me, sobbing into a cushion, presided over by good old Nat King Cole singing, of all things, 'When you're smiling.' It was the most desolate half hour of my life to date. I sat there trying to conjure up my 'real' mother, my mum - and all I could see was this batty old lady.