The first sign that something was going wrong for my mother was a curious forgetfulness for words. She'd always had rather good verbal skills; she was a quick solver of crosswords, and would usually be able to explain the meaning of an unfamiliar word. Then she started forgetting words that you would think could never be forgotten, such as 'spoon'. I remember standing in the kitchen one day. My mother was at the dining room table. She turned and looked through the kitchen door towards me and obviously wanted something. It was just as obvious that she couldn't say what she wanted. After a series of half sentences and gestures (and exasperated exclamations) she conveyed the idea that she wanted a spoon. At the time I laughed, and made fun of her. How could you forget such an every day word, I asked.

The problem was intermittent at first. There was no reason to think that a pattern was developing. The frequency of mistakes was too low. Then some errors started to really surprise us. I recall her reading something to my father, and stumbling, over and over again, to say the word 'individual'. She grew increasingly angry with each failed attempt, and then said 'Oh! it means "person."' She was absolutely clear about the meaning, and absolutely aware of her own problem, and completely at a loss for why she could not say what she so obviously understood and knew.

One by one, common words disappeared, never to be heard again. On the other hand, stock phrases like 'Hello, dear', 'Oh, yes. I'm all right', 'C'mon, eat this', 'Oh, that's good' and so on, survived. Some are even heard today, but they often appear to be said automatically, without any real thought. It is hard to know whether mum as we know her is still talking to us.

There was a period of perhaps 18 months when forgetting words drove my mum crazy. She would get terribly frustrated and angry with herself. I knew that what someone in her position should do is think of alternative ways of explaining things. For example, if you cannot say 'spoon' say 'the thing you eat soup with' or mime the action. The hard thing was that my mother just seemed to be stuck behind the immovable obstacle of her dysphasia (speech difficulty), unable to find a work-around, unable to say what she wanted to say. What happened next was that another, larger, problem simply obliterated her frustration. She soon began to be unaware that she was not making real sense. Only a vague memory that talking was difficult held her back with strangers, or when she had a more complicated thought to express. Her speech became increasingly fragmentary.

Today we use guesswork to fill in the gaps. My mother rarely completes a full sentence, and has almost completely stopped using nouns. A few simple verbs liking 'coming', 'going', and 'doing' seem to be used for almost every action. She no longer identifies individuals, as she cannot say their names. Though she recognises me every time I arrive at the house, she does not remember my name. I asked her just the other day. I told her what the first letter was. I told her it was a short name. She was quite surprised that she couldn't remember. And it appears that without names it is still harder to remember how many people she knows. She can now only sometimes recall how many children she had (four).

Over time, a more general forgetfulness seemed to cloud around her. Things that were no longer present were no longer remembered. The same for people. All our past houses, friends and family, just faded away for her. The outside world ceased to have any meaning. Television, though still exercising some kind of hypnosis, became incomprehensible. She leafed through the newspapers each day, but only to look at the pictures. And worse was to come.