Typically, the sunken eyes of my wife acknowledged the existence of everything in the room, but me. But today was different. Today, I watched her with a sense of curiosity that quickly transformed into concern as she slowly peered up from her coffee mug and uttered the three words that fueled all my demons.
"Who are you?"
It was at that precise moment that I came to terms with the magnitude of the decision I made seven years ago, when I fell in love with the first ever clinical patient to suffer from irremediable, acute, early onset Alzheimer's. But as I smiled warmly, took her hand, and introduced myself, I also realized something else:
I didn't regret a single thing.