At what stage in the disease process does a person's lifelong identity disappear? There is no right answer here. Sometimes I see a struggle to hold onto selfhood. For others those little lights that Passenger sings about seem to dim fast especially in environments which are just plain wrong in terms of the stimulation that is provided. Is the person themselves aware? I think that they often are. Maybe it's the reason for their indescribable sadness, aggression or agitation.
It's a rare case indeed when a person has disappeared altogether. With patient work, glimmers of former individuality can be drawn out of people. But it's often time that loved ones don't have. That's an observation not a judgement. Waiting for greatly extended periods of time for a person with extraordinarily slow process to express a preference about what they would like to drink often isn't feasible. Life goes on for us lucky ones. But a few carers persevere. They are my inspiration. Some of the most remarkable people I've ever met. 'She's still my Mum.' asserts the daughter of a woman told me whose heightened distress takes hours to calm. A contrast to those words that make up today's title. There is still hope.