
I’m slowly losing my brilliant Dad to dementia – but now I’m tormented by a fear his demise could’ve been easily avoided
WATCHING my dad Mick cry sitting on the bottom stair when I was 11 years old in 1990 is a memory I can recall far too easily. Confused, I asked my mum Irene what was going on. I was told he was on new antidepressants and it would take some time for him to …