I spent a couple of summers working as a "leisure time" aide in a nursing home when I was a teen. Most of my afternoon was spent sitting with Rose, who latched onto me as a person who didn't change and wasn't part of her previous life. And she did revisit her previous life over and over again. One Sunday afternoon I overlapped with her son, and he looked, well, as you describe yourself feeling here.

I did talk to my parents about my job and the people I met. And later, when Grandpa developed full-on dementia, Dad said to me, "I would rather die than go to through this."