Far more than dreading ending up in a care home myself, I dread having to put my husband in one.

My husband is stricken with dementia, and it's a trick of his condition that events and people from his past are more real to him than what happened five minutes ago.

I've put up with more humiliation than I care to remember.

There is no comfort anywhere for anyone who dreads to go home.

I put more pressure on myself than anybody in this world.

I find myself bitter, defensive, and more misanthropic than I care to admit.