In today’s world, abstract concepts such as good and evil, heaven and hell, God and the Devil, no longer influence our day-to-day lives. When once these precepts governed powerful populations, they are now meaningless and often laughable in our modern-day logic. We all mostly go about our daily business without giving any of these tenuous ideas a second thought or indeed any thought at all.

But there comes a time in many people’s lives when they are confronted with an ordeal so intolerable, so incomprehensible, that dealing with it every day becomes a holy battle and the enemy an evil entity of unrelenting cruelty.

For my family and me, this entity was Dementia and it was a Devil.

My father was my idol; in my eyes he could do no wrong, and as far as I’m aware, never did. I was unashamedly daddy’s little girl. The connection between us was strong; we could sit in the same room together without speaking and feel totally at ease, each appreciating the presence of the other unconditionally. I adored him and I believe the feeling was mutual.

As the head of the family, my father was strong, reliable, thoughtful and fair. Among friends and colleagues he was respected and widely known to be a good man. Dad was non-confrontational, a pacifist, and in company, an engaging personality. He was street smart and a deep thinker. He rarely raised his voice or his hand, and would choose compromise over conflict even at a cost to himself.

The initial diagnosis of dementia was devastating, so much so that for many years we were in denial. Unlike some sufferers, Dad’s decline was glacial in its progression. In ever so tiny increments, we were witness to an accumulation of losses that, after five years, could no longer be denied. 

In addition to short-term memory loss, my father slowly lost some of his key personality traits – his ability to think rationally, his patience, his focus, his determination, his independence. He stopped being able to follow a conversation or the meaning of an article he was reading. The small pleasures he used to partake in – reading the paper, doing a jigsaw puzzle – were abandoned. There were no longer any pleasures, nor any laughter or knowing smiles.

One of the definitions of the word “devil” is an evil spirit having the power to afflict humans with both bodily disease and spiritual corruption. Dementia did this to my father. It not only attacked him physically, eating away at his brain, but transformed him into someone he was not.

Just like in the world of demons, dementia also has a witching hour, but it isn’t in the heart of the night. It is in that period between day and night, as the sun starts to go down, and, in fact, is known as sun-downing. In the same way that the witching hour is when demons and witches are at their most powerful, so too is dementia most frightening during the sun-downing period. 

At sundown the changing light and rising shadows cause confusion for dementia sufferers, they become agitated and distrustful of things and people around them. The agitation can lead to aggression and, for those few hours, has the power to transform a kind and gentle man into a daily imminent threat. A stranger. 

Beyond the difficulties the sufferer endures, dementia forces those closest to them to also behave in a manner they could never have imagined towards their loved one. First in deciding to take away their liberty, then their dignity, and finally, their lives.

As a family, we had to make the impossible choice between keeping the shell of the man who was once our father alive at all costs or allowing him to die in the cruellest fashion, either through starvation or affliction. And in the meantime watch him, powerless, as he disintegrated before our eyes in body, soul and mind.

Long before my father passed away, he had forgotten who I was. I cannot recall the last time he called me by my name. I continued to call him “Dad” even when the term no longer sparked a light of recognition in him. For the last few years of his life he was non-verbal, and for the last twelve months, immobile. All quality of life had been depleted.

I am not a religious person, but if this disease is not the Devil, then I don’t know what is.