It is hard to see our parents (or other loved one) so helpless and vulnerable. As an adult "child" it feels unnatural and even difficult to step into role reversal, suddenly helping with soiled clothing, and toileting, for example.
One time my mother came bursting out of her bathroom, buck naked, being prepped for showering, just to tell me something. She had no awareness of her nakedness and I had to accept the pain and humor of such similar incidents in which my mother's absolute modesty slipped entirely away. The yes/and of it all; the constant ambiguity I met with while wading ever deeper into dementia caregiving as my mother journeyed on.
What helped me with embarrassing moments (embarrassing for me) was seeing how clearly it mattered to my mother that I was present to her and willing to help. She didn't notice the role reversal, but one time praised me for, essentially, going "above and beyond" when staffing was short, and I helped her with a particularly messy accident. Mom couldn't quite get the words out, but I understood her. It was very clear that I was a comfort to her, a reassuring presence. What one time felt entirely inappropriate was destined to change as I became not just daughter but a person in service to my mother.
In some moments the daughter had to be put aside. In all moments of doubt, though, I reassured Mom that everything was okay, and she did nothing wrong (as was often her worry). She was okay, I’d say, and didn't have to worry. Everyone around her cared and was there to help her, including me. This messaging soothed her, often, especially near the end when she still understood about her condition, her environment and circumstance, couldn't express herself or help what she might do, but knew she was in a pickle, saying to me in a moment of clarity about 11 months before her death, "I said, God, how much more can I stand?"