I spent some time recently looking back at old posts. I found it quite engrossing watching the journey I've been having. As older TP members know, my mother has had a very interesting disease progress. I've had many difficult times, times when I wanted everything to be over, times when I didn't care. Now my mother has moved into the last stage. She still responds (usually) by looking in my direction when I speak. She rarely speaks and if she does, it's just a word or two. She is no longer violent and aggressive. She's confined to a wheelchair, doubly incontinent and cannot feed herself. I visit Saturdays & Sundays and whenever our work schedules permit it. I feed her and tidy her room. She is only 71 and other than AD and atrial fibrillation (just developed in the last 6 months) is quite healthy. Her appetite is fantastic. We've reached an equilbrium. I guess I'm feeling a little melancholic because I think I would rather have the out of control, violent, aggressive swearing mother back. I think of the lines from Dylan Thomas's poem: "Do not go gentle into that good night, Rage, rage against the dying of the light" That's what my mother did for such a long time. Now she's moved into another phase and I recognize it and don't like it. But what is, is. Whether I like it or not, or accept it or not, won't make a bit of difference. So I try to make the most of the limited time we have left. We had a incredibly close mother-daughter relationship. Before her illness, I would have sworn no one in the world had a closer relationship. I hero-worshiped her. She was my rock, my emotion centre, the most important person in my universe. I would give so much to hear her say once more in her slightly tart and acerbic manner 'Now, Joanne....". Thank you for letting me ramble.