One could remember the family gathered around her and could take comfort from that. The other barely could remember her grandchildren and her brain deteriorated to the point where even despite being almost force-fed food, she shriveled and could not do basic body functions without assistance.

The stomach-lung cancer took only 14 months to kill my paternal grandmother. The dementia took over five years of that slow, wasting degree. Having experienced both, the dementia is an even worse bastard, both for the one suffering from it and the family who has to endure the near-total loss of personality before the wasting death.

And considering that her own mother died in a similar fashion, it weighs on my mind quite a bit. I'd much rather die of cancer and be aware of myself at the end than to have my memory and personality wiped clean and then lose almost all control of my body to boot.