Day Two Alzheimer's

I went to my mother's house today to clean out the refrigerator and check out the new door. It was sad to be there without her now. It is as if she has died and in some ways she has. My mom no longer resides in the body that looks like my mom. At least not on a full time basis. I tidied the kitchen, dining room and living room. I gathered a few items that I thought she might enjoy having.
I also returned her first alert system. She didn't understand how to use it when she needed it. They forgot to tell me that patients with Alzheimer's don't know how to press that button that has hung around their necks for months. They didn't mind taking the money for a piece of equipment that was relatively useless. Then I returned to my house to quickly mow the lawn before the next rain storm. I quickly ate left overs and then grabbed her dog and ran to the nursing home. Her dog, Henri, has adapted well to the new situation and appears to have learned the route to his owners room on only his second visit. Again, my mom blended in with the heads of gray hair and blank stares. She quickly recognized her buddy Henri and immediately they were hugging, whining, crying and in their individual ways pledging their love for each other. Tonight we took Henri for a walk, sat outside and when we returned to her room I cut her fingernails and toenails. When did she lose the ability to do this for herself I wonder.  A pang of guilt came as I realized that she needed someone to do this for her now. She pledged to not be a burden to me if she could just go home or come live with me. I entertain the idea. I wish her clarity would stay. I pray the Alzheimer's diagnosis is not true. Some fluke of misdiagnosis and now she is miraculously cured.
I know she is losing all that she hoped to pass along to her family. Her retirement money will be gone. He house and belongings will be gone. Her house will be sold. And, I am making her funeral arrangements tomorrow so that the life insurance policy that she has had for 40 years will be actually used for her funeral. I hate this disease. I hate that my Mom could have stayed in her home and been financially independent for years to come, but not when she can't remember to take her medicine or to eat. I hate that my mom has lost the ability to taste the foods that she used to enjoy. I hate knowing that some day she will not know my face or that I am her daughter.
When I came home I put her dog in the house and got on my bike. A long hard ride mingled with inward screams of grief followed by a glass of pink wine and peanuts allow me to settle my mind long enough to rest.
I love you Mom.