I’m 73 and care for my 97-year-old mom. Her dementia has made me consider my own mortality.

• Robert Fishman, 73, regularly visits his 97-year-old mom at her assisted living facility.
• The boomer said their meetings are tough because she rarely recognises him.
• Her dementia has made him think about his own later years.

This story is based on a conversation with retired academic-turned-artist Robert Fishman, 73, of Potomac, Maryland. He reflects on life with his 97-year-old mom. The account has been edited for length and clarity.

My mother was officially diagnosed with dementia two-and-a-half years ago at the age of 95.

It was difficult for both her and me. She’d always been a beautiful, vibrant woman, and we’ve been very close.

She’s had a challenging life, particularly after being widowed when my father died at just 45, and her second husband died of Parkinson’s disease 26 years ago.

She’s now 97 years old, and her longevity is making me question my own mortality.

Mom drove until she was 92

She was extremely vivacious and independent, working in sales and volunteering at a hospice and a museum. Her friends relied on her to take them to appointments because she drove until she was 92.

Sadly, that all changed when I noticed some big changes. She experienced memory loss and stopped looking after her apartment in an assisted living facility in Delray, Florida.

It was a mess, and I’d often receive calls from the staff saying they were worried about her health.

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My wife, Jackie, and I had a hard time persuading her to move closer to us in Maryland. But she relented. She now lives in another assisted living place located about two miles away.

She often mistakes me for my dad

I visit her every other day. I won’t sugarcoat it by saying it’s a pleasant experience. She doesn’t recognise who I am — frequently mistaking me for my dad — and can be violent at times.

There are strict rules, and the staff can’t shower her without either Jackie or me being there, in case she lashes out or gets bruises.

The situation isn’t unique, but it’s unusual to have a parent who is still alive when you are 73. I’m aware that I am in the last stage of my life. It’s a constant reminder when people you know die in their 70s. I’ve already lost several friends.

You start thinking about life and death in a different way. Luckily, my wife and I are healthy at the moment, but I increasingly reflect on my own mortality.

I would want to make a decision before my dementia became advanced

I find dementia to be a horrible disease that is playing out before our eyes. Watching someone you love struggle is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

If I develop something like Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s, if it gets to the point where dementia is setting in, I would prefer to be able to make an early enough decision not to live anymore.

I’ve read about centers in Switzerland where euthanasia is allowed. I don’t want my son, daughter, and grandchildren to see me in a similar condition to my mom.

My art helps me deal with Mom’s dementia

They all go to visit her, which is wonderful. The population is aging, and I’m writing a children’s book to help young kids navigate this issue. It’s called “Bubby’s Still Here” because “Bubby” is a traditional name for grandma in Jewish culture.

Meanwhile, I immerse myself in my art. I’ve developed the concept of deconstructed landscapes, which relates to the idea of memory loss. It’s led to a certain calmness.

Whatever happens to Mom in the future, I’ll always hold onto memories of her warmth, her humor, and her enduring love.

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