Of course, no one develops vascular dementia deliberately.
Both of my parents have now sadly passed away.
On a Saturday afternoon in April 1992, when I was 13, my father told me we needed to talk.
Yet it was something being done to me all the time.
Your mother is not a co-signer of their mortgage, and your sister is not a minor.
My father went rapidly downhill after he moved into the care home, and stopped speaking altogether.
Over champagne, my boyfriend began to tell a stomach-churning story involving pizzas, shit and vomit.
It was like being loved by a parent you never had, and the partner you always wanted, at once.