I agree.  My father died a year ago in January, of colon cancer.  My mother had not seen a doctor for over 30 years.  After Dad's stroke, I realized, in taking her around to do errands, that she wasn't able to even remember how to write checks anymore.  She had large amounts of cash hidden all over her house.  She was paranoid, not eating, and losing everything, including bank books, keys, ID's, etc.  She accused my brother of breaking in to steal from her.  He was heartbroken.  Now that she lives in an assisted living place near me, he sees her maybe once a month.  I go to see her every 2-3 days.  I am still in mourning for my father, and for my mother, since I have no parents anymore.  She looks like my Mom, and has some of her memories, and I know she loves me, as she always has.  But I now have power of attorney, and pay all of her bills, in addition to trying to sell her house, in order to be able to afford to keep her where she is.  I'm raising 4 teenagers, working full-time, trying to get a better job, and trying to maintain a relationship with my husband, while my mother calls me once a week or so, to report that "her apartment was broken into again, and X was stolen from her."  She insists that I come right over to find it, if I'm so sure it was not stolen.  Sometimes I find it right away, since her macular degeneration has her vision very impaired.  Sometimes she has hidden it so well, I can't find it until one or two visits later.  Then she tells me "they must have gotten tired of it, so they returned it."  <sigh>

I never feel like I"m doing enough for my Mother, which she seems to remind me every time I see her.  Yet I grieve because I have no mother anymore, to tell my problems to, or to have commiserate with me over my feelings.  My husband's parents are still independent and lucid, so even though her tries to understand, he doesn't.  I never wanted this additional burden, but my mother still tells me I'm not coming to see her often enough, or I should move her somewhere else, or, God forbid, let her go back home again...so she can stop eating, and starve herself to death...at least she'd be able to smoke at home then, instead of having to go outside!  So I grieve, I feel guilt, and I try to keep doing the right things, knowing all the while I'll be groused at my mom the next time I see her.

Oh, I'm sorry. It sounds extremely difficult. Is it possible for your husband to come with you some of those times, to see and to help? **hugs**

Since I am a sub at some high schools, I get off work earlier than him.  He doesn't usually get home until 5:30 or 6. She eats dinner at about 4:30, and by 6 is back in her apt in pajamas, getting ready for bed.  The few times I tried to go see her that late, I ran into what those "in the business" call the "sundowning syndrome", which only makes her behavior worse. 

My husband will go with me once a month, for the family dinners...I try to only do every other month, so I can at least force my brother to have to go see her ever other month.  She treats my husband almost flirtatiously, so he doesn't get any of the "real mom" treatment that I get...for that matter, neither does my brother.  I guess, like a toddler, she "saves" all of her "special feelings" for me, since she trusts my love so implicitly.  I try to tell myself that is a good thing...a compliment.  <sigh>

Reading the comments brought back lots of memories.  Alzheimers claimed my Mom's mind, then her body.  Looking back here are a few things that helped me:  1)  I stopped the family dinners when I realized she didn't remember and, for all of us, it was a painful experience.  2)  When she would call demanding I come to see her, I would calmly tell her I would get there as soon as possible.  Then I would call the administrator, ask her to check on my Mom and call me back.  3)  Re. lost articles.  Don't fret over them.  My Mom lost/found her glasses more than 20 times...I finally quit counting.  For me, I visualized the disease as a magic slate.  You walk in the room, have a conversation.  Walk out and  the page is lifted...presto!! the image is gone.  Looking back 4 years later, I realize I did the best I could and, the last 2 years I cared for Vesta.  I clearly remember the day I walked into her room and realized my mom's spirit had left.  More painful than words can express; but for the last 2 years of her existence (not life - - very little quality), Vesta received the best care possible by me (only chld) and the staff.

Kay, you offer very good insight and advice. Bless you on your efforts, and I'm sure she appreciated all you did for her. Keeping an open mind and a practical sense of responsibility sounds like it made things easier than they could have been.