When it gets tough

Here's the almighty barrier in loving and living with Jim and his dementia. I must subsume myself always, constantly and forever to his condition. There is no appealing to love or logic or fairness or even the weather. Jim now is his own minute self entirely, unable to comprehend or care for me or my needs. And, I feel selfish therefore. How loony is that?!

It's like watching love die. He loves me still, I know, but that love is more instinct than spirit, more habit than joy. Jim will love me for a long time but the animation behind that love will be a small, sad thing. I'd like to say I am prepared for this but ... I am not.