The daughter's visit went okay. She was here 72 hours, not 36.

His dementia has gotten a good deal worse. It gets lonely being with someone who can't hold much of a conversation. I'm realizing now that another hunk of him has recently died.

I read where, in Asia somewhere, they have these restaurants where you can eat fish in an unusual way. The fish swim around in an aquarium near your table. You pick out one you'ld like to taste. The server grabs the fish and removes a hunk of it without killing it. Then the still living fish is thrown back in the aquarium. You get to eat part of the fish, while watching it swim around.

I know that's an awful story to bring up. It just popped into my head. The idea of being alive and functioning with parts missing. I can remember and think about the parts of my bf's personality that are gone - like tasting the fish. But there he is, over in his recliner asleep, alive - but dying and already missing parts. How long will this go on? My God, how long?

I sure fouled up my life when I moved with him so far from both our families. I never envisioned this. He was a lot older than I. Of course, I expected he'ld have failing health long before I would. It never fully occurred to me that he would become, and remain, totally dependent on a caregiver for years on end, crippled in both body and mind. The last time he was able to cook dinner for us was Jan. 2012. That's over 7 years ago.

I guess I figured that, by this stage of my life, I'ld have more money. (It was always clear he wouldn't.) With money, you can hire help. Medicaid will pay for some help, but they pay low, so the help's not that good. I've had no help since before the Summer. I do it all.

Now his dementia has just gotten to where I can't hardly leave him alone. I can't hardly leave the apartment. How long will this go on?

So the daughter was here in the nice hotel with the Jacuzzi and the big swimming pool. I dressed him up and brought him to meet her in the restaurant of her choice. I felt like a hired attendant. She made little conversation with me. After decades being her dad's girlfriend, she knows next to nothing about me. Doesn't know when I was born, or where. Never knew the names of my parents. They were alive during the first 16 years that I was with her father. Isn't it odd that she knows almost nothing about me? She asks about nothing. Yes, sitting in that restaurant, I could have been a nurse's aid she hired for the day - to cut her father's meat and take him to the bathroom.

I feel like saying something to this family. But that would just create unpleasantness for me. His adult kids have all the trappings of successful living. They seem to be fully functioning humans. But there's something almost zombie-like in their lack of having any relationship with me. Or maybe I'm the zombie? Something is so odd that it's spooky.

When will this be over? Then how will I be when it is over, this long vigil? I wonder how I'll do back living alone again.

Don't mind me. I'm just thinking.

Once he's gone, I doubt I'll ever hear from his kids again. I'll be glad of that. I hate this fake relationship I have with his fake kids telling me about the fake love they have for me because of all I do for their dad. Fake hugging and kissing when they come out here. How did I ever surrender myself to this kind of an existence?

Now he's diagnosed as terminally ill. More like interminably. I'm making some kind of a major mistake in figuring things out. If only there were a decent nursing home where I thought he'ld be sort of okay. There isn't. He's been in 3. The results were awful. Here with me he does way, way better.

The daughter showed up after a year for 3 days. I don't expect her to be flying out here a lot. I don't expect her to stay long, when her dad can't even put her up as a house guest. But she could talk to me on the phone once in a while for more than 3 seconds. Now that I have a smart phone, I get texts. "How r u? How is dad?" That's it. That's her contribution to an interaction. I text back a detailed account of his medical status. I should stop doing that. Well, truth is: I am not eager to have her calling me on the phone. She has no interest in talking with me.

While she was here, she was on her phone a lot. At the table in the restaurant - a loud, crowded place with music. (Her dad couldn't hear her.) I tried to make conversation. She whips out the phone and starts texting. "Sorry." she says. Here at her dad's apartment: she kept stepping out on the patio to make and take phone calls. But she's patting herself on the back for making the trip. Here's another thing: If I'ld have been her, I'ld have brought me a present. I had one for her - a prepaid funeral policy. Yes, I managed to save up $6000 of her father's income to put into an irrevocable policy. (He has no assets or insurance, and she'ld been fretting about the cost of burying him.) Her home is worth about $700,000, according to Zillow. Then she wanted one last thing. Her dad had some nice photos in the apartment of her mother and of herself. She wants copies made and sent to her. I'll have to get right on that. And I actually will because that's how I am. (It just occurred to me that, maybe, that was her diplomatic way of saying what she wants out of the apartment when her dad is gone.)

I should go to bed.