I would never claim it was easy. Far from it. A couple of things did made it easier than it could have been. Other caretakers have it much harder when the opposite is true.
One, my mom was such a sweetheart that no hidden darkness or violence (of any consequence) came forth when her mind began losing control. She was somewhat weak physically and needed a walker starting about 3-4 years in which kept her from doing dangerous things. Mostly. She was sleight of build so when I had to physically carry her etc. I could handle that and it was infrequent. Her physical health remained otherwise sound until the last three months.
Beyond that we were always close and she did so much for me for so many years I could only consider it my privilege to care for her. The hardest part was not what I might have considered my sacrifices to do it but helplessly watching that *@#$ disease steal her memories and mental abilities in an ultra-slow motion fashion. And she was aware that that was happening and it upset her. That tore my heart out.
***Beyond that we were always close and she did so much for me for so many years I could only consider it my privilege to care for her. The hardest part was not what I might have considered my sacrifices to do it but helplessly watching that *@#$ disease steal her memories and mental abilities in an ultra-slow motion fashion. And she was aware that that was happening and it upset her. That tore my heart out.***
The only thing I can think of to say is “ditto”. Cruel, cruel, insidious disease. I think every caregiver, especially children of a parent with dementia, could write a book about their experiences with their loved one.