Lately

Lately, Moma is more feeble than not. She asked me this afternoon "Do I have a room at your house?" I answered, then she said, "Do I live with you?" She shook her head as if she didn't know. It is kind of sad. I am glad she hasn't been combative and nasty, but this is a kind of sad personality. The nurse says that the dementia is progressing. She told me 6 times within 10 minutes that she felt bad and was going to bed. I thought I would be ready for this, but this is tiring in itself.