I feel like I'm supposed to be this saint, you know? Like, my mother — she's 78 now, and she's always been… particular. Always had her routines, her way of doing things. And now, with the memory stuff, it's like amplified by a thousand. Every morning it’s the same thing, the same argument. I get there by 7:15, like I always do, to help her get ready for the day. And she just REFUSES. Absolutely refuses to take her morning meds. I put them right there, on the little ceramic saucer, next to her tea, and she just stares at them like they're poison. Or she hides them under the napkin, thinking I won't notice. I mean, it's not like I haven't explained it a hundred times, how important they are for her heart, for keeping her clear, you know? And I find myself just… seething. Like, actually seeing red. And then I feel SO unbelievably guilty for being angry at her, because she can't help it, can she? This isn't her fault, really. But then there's that little voice, and it's LOUD sometimes, that just screams, "WHY are you doing this to me? Don't you understand I have a job to get to? That I have my OWN life?" And I feel like such a monster for even thinking it. Like, I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror, and my face is all pinched and tight, and I just look… tired. Beyond tired. And then she’ll say something completely out of left field, like, "Did you remember to water the petunias?" and I just have to take a deep breath, and pretend like I haven't just spent twenty minutes trying to coax her into swallowing a tiny pill. And the frustration just builds, and builds, and builds, until I’m just fuming inside, and she’s just… smiling, like nothing happened. Is that messed up? To feel such rage over a pill? I mean, I know I'm supposed to be patient, supposed to be understanding. And I try, I really do. I count to ten, I try to distract her, to make it a game, but sometimes it just doesn't work. And then I'm late for work again, and my own boss is giving me that look, and I just want to scream. And all I can think is, "I just want her to cooperate. Just once. Just give me ONE morning where I don't have to fight her on every single thing." And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because she's my mom, you know? My mom. And she used to be this force, this incredibly capable woman, and now it's like… this. And I'm angry. Really, truly angry sometimes. And then I feel absolutely disgusted with myself. It's like a loop, you know? And I don't know how to stop it.