I lived with my mother from 1984 to 1990，as the illness slowly took its toll. It was appalling to watch her change right in front of me. She didn't just forget things. She became a different person-one whom I did not recognize. When my boyfriend would watch television, she'd walk in circles around his chair, muttering under her breath and scowling. She kept a hammer hidden in her room and wielded it at the slightest provocation. If she got out of the house, she'd refuse to come back in. Instead, she would run down the street, calling for the police to help her. She'd come to believe that she was a police officer-a conviction touched off by a letter inviting her to take the civil service test. Only another police officer could convince her to come into the house.