Before my sister was struck by frontotemporal dementia, her wishes were very clear.
No feeding tube or breathing machine if she became profoundly incapacitated, without the prospect of recovery. No aggressive life-sustaining measures.
And she wanted to stay in her home, all the way through.
But that was then, when the prospect of becoming infirm was abstract. When illness descended, my sister changed. And I found myself wondering whose wishes we should respect. My sister, as she had been? Or my sister, as she was now?