What you'll never find in one of those guide-to-Alzheimer's books like "The 36-Hour Day" or "A Dignified Life" is that when you are caring for someone with the disease, you will look, to innocent bystanders, like a total bitch.
They won't understand that you're simply trying to explain math and your dad can't hear very well. They won't know that you've repeated the same thing six times and that is why your voice sounds irritated. They won't see that you're exhausted, with a pile of work to do, but your heart is telling you to stay in case you're needed. What they will notice, however, is the glass of sangria you're holding on to like a binky.
The good news is, you will get incredible customer service. If anything, I've made my dad look even cuter than he already is. And I'm not biased--we went out to dinner last week, and the one lady in the place who wore tight pants and too much makeup made a point of stopping by to say hello. He had no idea what her name was, but she knew his. It was unbelievable.
I don't care what you think of me...but I do care how much those refills cost. Time to count my blessings and move on.