A Moment of Panic

Dictionary.com defines dementia as: "severe impairment or loss of intellectual capacity and personality integration, due to the loss of or damage to neurons in the brain."
Today I had a moment of panic as I thought about the scientific research indicating that Kristi & I each have a 50% chance of contracting Pick's Disease since Dad had it. Add to that statistic that our maternal grandmother died after a long Alzheimer's battle, and we may both end up demented (literally!). I have wondered many times since Dad was diagnosed if it was harder to watch him mentally disappear right before our eyes than it would have been to see him suffer some other type of disease. At least with the Pick's Disease, he did not appear to be in any great pain until the last few days. It was so hard for us to not be able to carry on conversations with him, or to wonder if he even recognized us any more. I still don't know which would be worse.
When Dad's disease first started out, his personality began to change. He would blurt out inappropriate words. He acted more and more like a misbehaving child, performing crazy antics for attention. He remembered all the words to his beloved gospel songs, but he didn't know how to be serious on stage anymore. He would wear the same clothes for days, even if they were dirty - when before he was METICULOUS about his clothing. This stage of the disease became worse & embarrassingly worse before his physical problems started or his memory left him.
The thought of someday being bedridden, curled up into a fetal position, and not knowing my own son, is absolutely terrifying to me. The thought of Artie having to care for me like a baby is also depressing and frightening. I watched my mom care for my dad and I know what a toll it took on her. The burden of being a caregiver is a great one, and so often under-appreciated.
Dad starting exhibiting the first signs of his disease around age 60 or 61. That means I may only have 15 good years left! Scary stuff. However, if I put it into perspective of how none of us are even promised the next hour, much less tomorrow, then it seems a little more bearable. I guess I just need to make the most of every day, every year, and when my time comes, be it through dementia or some other means, I will have lived the best life I could. Matthew 6:34: "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." (KJV)