It could happen to you

My parents' situation has gotten just a little worse compared to last year. One difference is that just after we got here, my mother started to have some trouble walking. I think it's mostly joint pain, but my father refuses to take her to the doctor. When she tries to a take a few halting steps she often wants to hold on to something; my father interprets that as fear of falling, but I don't think it's actually fear. The trouble walking means they've stopped their morning jaunts to the cafe and their evening trips to their beloved Galway Pub, so my mother spends almost the entire day in bed. However, my mother still gets up in the middle of the night and tried to come into our bedroom; she's not sure where she is. They seem to be bathing even less than they did last year, so together with her kotexes, it often smells pretty ripe. Looking back at what I wrote last year, I can't point to anything to show her mental faculties have declined appreciably, although she hasn't been able to call my wife by her name correctly once.

They're not old, they're back in the Middle Ages. According to Cecil Adams:

In the Middle Ages public baths had been available in larger towns; while these were more recreational than hygienic and often did a good side business as brothels, you could get clean if you wanted to. In the wake of the plague, though, Europeans decided baths were dangerous. Hot water allowed toxins to penetrate the skin--better to keep the pores caulked with healthy grime. A grossed-out Muslim in the Arabian Nights suggested that once Christians were doused with baptismal water they felt entitled to avoid bathing for the rest of their lives. Personal grooming, such as it was, focused entirely on appearances. People washed their faces and hands sometimes but refused to immerse their entire bodies except on doctors' orders. The rich drenched themselves with perfume to conceal odor. Lice and fleas were universal, etiquette requiring merely that one refrain from scratching conspicuously in public. People were used to a baseline level of putridity; to attract attention, you had to really reek.

This noxious state of affairs persisted for centuries. One small step forward was the wearing of underclothing, preferably of white linen--dirt would rub off on the linen, which you could wash every few weeks without having to wash yourself.

That's about how life is for my parents now, and who knows, maybe for me in the future.