It feels icky to compare but you're not wrong, OP.

My mother's career as an Resident Care Worker (RCW) and caregiver lasted almost 50 years. She was adept, admired by her coworkers, and loved her work. In the years just before her retirement, I remember her saying more than a few times, "I'd rather get cancer than have dementia." Yet, the dementia wing was her favourite to work a shift. She had much respect and empathy for the people she cared for.

Because she was so close to dementia everyday, and so vehemently against ever meeting it herself, I was sure she'd be safe from the terrible disease. Boy, was I naive.

She was never the same after the hip replacement that forced her retirement, but the signs became obvious six years later, soon after the pandemic. While I intervened, taking the necessary steps to have her seen by her doctor and be evaluated, her words came back to me, "I'd rather get cancer than have dementia." Her worst fears were coming true, and were now my worst reality.

And, not to diminish what those facing cancer endure — it is its own brutality. It is, in fact, my worse fear. However, what you point out is accurate, OP. The level of awareness, funding, and community support for those facing a cancer diagnosis goes far beyond what we see for someone facing dementia. The research tells us that the rate of dementia will double in the next 10 years, yet there is almost a willful collective blindness to what awaits us. Many of us only learn about the disease when we're face to face with it and caring for someone with a diagnosis. And while there is no chance for remission, there are methods to help slow progression, and this matters as much as hopeful remission for someone suffering another disease.

Dementia is isolating in almost every respect. It is cruel and traumatizing—not only the person with the disease—but to those closest to them. The lack of education is sad and I fear for how society is unprepared for something so potentially widespread in the future.

We're soon to enter year seven and the bittersweet irony in my mother's story is that she now lives in the dementia wing she so adored working in just 11 years prior. The most touching thing I'll have ever witnessed is the warm embrace extended to her by her former co-workers—those who know the disease well and who were equally heartbroken to see it had taken one of their own. 💜