Last week, a caregiver told me something that she considered so horrible that she could only say it in a whisper.

She told me about her husband and his Alzheimer’s journey. He had just moved from a memory care community to a nursing home. She wasn’t pleased with the care he was receiving. Their kids lived across the country and had stopped visiting. He spent most of his waking time agitated and riddled with anxiety. In the past, her presence had decreased the anxiety, but now nothing seemed to control it–except a high dose of a sedative that knocked him out and made him a “zombie.”

She had a sense of dread every time she pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home. She made a deal with herself…30 minutes minimum, but she’d feel better if she stayed 40. She hated seeing how much he was struggling. She felt…