If you’re reading this blog because you have a parent dying from Frontotemporal dementia, I have bad news: things are going to get worse. That is a fact. No point in sugar coating the truth, right? There is no happy ending, no light at the end of the tunnel (unless you accept death as light), no hope, and no cure. Nothing………………………… says the glass-half-empty-girl.

There is only suffering.

What your providers will tell you as you progress further down the demented rabbit hole, is that “this” is harder on the families…………….. maybe they’re right. I’m not a doctor. I’m a daughter. Still, no one knows what my mother feels, what she may or may not be experiencing or sensing……………………. and no one tells you the truth: it’s going to get worse.

Worse for me was the yelling (well, worse this quarter because it has been much, much, much worse in previous months and years. See: Geriatric psych ward). My mom can’t talk. She yells………………….. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!……….. always yelling. She still yells, not as much thanks to Hospice. We didn’t know if the yelling was due to pain, the disease, or some form of communication…………………………. an FTD expert from the Banner Alzheimer’s Institute would tell me that yelling is very common at the end stage……………………… Still, it’s an awful thing to witness. How do you comfort a 75 year old woman? What do you do? You can’t pick her up and cradle her………….. yes, you can hug her and hold her and lose your hearing at the same time, but what can you really, truly do. She is slowly dying. This is how she’s going out. I felt incredibly helpless. Totally alone. On October 31, I snapped. I did not want to carry this burden any longer. I wanted off the Titanic. I was ready to dive head first into freezing waters. As I sat in bed, I thought, ‘a plane crash would be a good way to go. Quick. I would just shut my eyes and go. That sounds nice.’

The thought of ending my own life on a 747 over the Pacific faded real fast with a good night’s sleep, which, for me, is sometimes all it takes. Of course, just because I got a grip doesn’t mean I don’t want off the doomed Titanic. I do. Very much so. But in order for me to actually get on a lifeboat, my mom has to die. And that is an interesting thought to contemplate……………………………. I often think about death. A lot. How could I not? I can smell Death’s breath……………………………….

So back to the plane crash…………………… I from time to time, try to put myself on that plane. To breathe in the fear, to imagine what would happen to me on impact………………… would everything just go black like the season finale of the Sopranos? Or is there something else waiting for me……………………. for you? Is there really a light?

I don’t have children, so I can take the time to do this, while reading the New Yorker.

Death is not a great conversation starter. People don’t like to talk about it. It scares them. Everyone turns incredibly awkward and you’re the asshole who started the conversation. Really, the thing is, most of us are wired to live — to survive. We don’t want to die because we have something to live for. Like children or grandchildren, a fabulous career or a cute cat (or two).

The Dalai Lama talks about death and contemplating death in his book, Becoming Enlightened, so I feel like I’m in good company when I think about a commercial jet nose-diving into shark-infested waters.

To make us mindful of death, the Buddha taught meditation on death. If you are mindful of death, you will be drawn into thinking of many things, particularly whether there is life after death. Even if you suspect that there is, you will take interest in the quality of that life — what it might be like.

This will lead you to think about Karma, the cause and effect of action, thereby drawing you away from choosing activities of harmful nature and encouraging you to engage in activities that are beneficial. This itself will lend your life a positive purpose.

If you try to avoid even the mention of death, then on the day when death comes, you may be frightened. However, if you contemplate the fact that death happens naturally to all living beings, this can make a big difference. When you become familiar with death, you can make preparations for dying, and decide what you should do with your mind at that time. On that day your preparation will have its effect; you will think “Ah, death has come,” and you will act as you had planned, free from fright.

I think he is right. However, while we can mentally and emotionally prepare for death and act of dying (which can take a long time), we physically cannot help ourselves along the way (unless we live in Oregon)………………………………… we cannot die with dignity………….not even one ounce……………………. dying is a family affair, and if an individual is dying from a terminal disease, they should have the right to end their life. But, then, that’s another story. Dying is like arm wrestling with the devil. You fight hard to win, but you know you’re going to lose. Witnessing death ravage your mom evokes a pretty similar response: you want to make your mom as comfortable as possible, to ease her pain — emotionally, physically and mentally — so she can be at peace………………………… my saintly mother deserves that much……………………. And every single day, I feel like I’m dancing with the devil and on the next turn, he’s going to break my neck. I do my best, but I can’t do everything. So what do you do? Nothing. You watch. You suffer with them. You cry with them. You watch them yell out…………………………….. you hold their hand, you hug them, and you give them palliative care.

And then you go home and board that imaginary plane to nowhere.