I spent quite a bit of time with Dad on Sunday and ended the day thoroughly exhausted.

I couldn’t figure out what made me feel so worn out. Dad isn’t unpleasant or difficult. He’s very appreciative–loves going to church or out on errands.

But I can’t stop thinking for a moment when I’m with him. He requires constant supervision.

For example, back at our house, my husband asked my dad if he wanted a glass of water, and Dad reached for a soap bottle. Steve lunged to grab it from him before Dad took a swallow.

We just can’t relax for a minute! I think that’s what causes the mental fatigue.

Dad would hate this. The one blessing of this disease (besides the fact that he is not in any pain) is that he has never truly realized what has been happening to him.

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