G'Day Bill, yep, I understand what you mean, (about cleaning the crapper, and Dementia, both of which piss me off) and the worst thing for my dad was that he wasn't able to make the decision to be put into a nursing home.
He was taken from his own home where he'd been spent the happiest years of his life with my Ma, and was put in a small antiseptic smelling room with just a bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. He didn't know anyone there, he had nothing to do, and because of the dementia he couldn't understand why he was there, he was really angry, and really frightened. I'd never seen him frightened before, and I didn't like it.
It wasn't anyone's fault, at 86 Ma couldn't look after him, he was continually falling over and wasn't able to pick himself up, so the decision was made for him by his doctor. It broke my heart to see him like that and I still feel guilty for not doing more for him, but I know that there was nothing more that anyone could do for him, apart from visiting him as often as we could.
In the end my grief was balanced by my relief that his suffering was over. It fcuking sucks that you can't just get put to sleep like my poor old cat Lucy was a couple of weeks ago, surrounded by your friends and family, not lingering in a drug addled coma until you finally draw your last rattling breath on your own in the middle of the night, with no-one to see you off.
I just hope that by the time I get to that stage, our respective governments will have grown some balls and given us some choice in how we want to leave our mortal coils, and treat us with a little dignity. Watching your loved ones spending their last days in misery sincerely pisses me off.................