Page 14 of Truck Me
“He’s had a few good weeks since the holidays. That’s not uncommon after a bad episode.”
“Bad episode?” I lift a brow. As far as I’ve been told Dad hasn’t had any bad episodes at the house.
“Yes. About a week before Christmas, he woke in the middle of the night and didn’t know where he was. He thought he was a teenager and didn’t recognize the woman sleeping next to him. It scared him, and he wandered out of the house in the middle of the night. The police found him walking along the highway. He was cold, in his pjs with no identification, and couldn’t tell the police who he was.”
“Oh God.” I squeeze my eyes closed to hold back the tears. “Mom didn’t tell me about that. That had to freak everyone out.”
“It did. Your dad more than anyone. I think that was the first time he really understood the severity of his disease. He’s worried about how this is going to affect all of you, but especially Rayne.”
“That makes sense. My niece has already been through so much. Dad is a protector. He wants to shield her from more pain.”
“He wants to shield all of you from the pain of living with his decline. But if Lois refuses to consider these options, I’m afraid it’s going to hurt everyone worse than it already has.”
“Can Dad still make the decision for himself?” I ask, maybe a little too hopeful. If dad does this himself then I won’t have to. Me doing it would put even more of a strain on my relationship with Mom. Years of being absent has made things bad enough. I can only imagine how putting my dad in a facility will make Mom feel about me.
“For now, yes. He’s still sound enough but it’s only a matter of time. He chose you over your mother because she can’t make this decision objectively. And I don’t think he’ll do it against her wishes. When the time comes, he’s hoping you can and will do what’s right for the family, not just him.”
“When the time comes,” I whisper.
“Yes, and I’m afraid that time is much closer than any of us would like to admit.”
“And those are the facilities you recommend?” I nod toward the folder he tried to hand Mom before she stormed out.
“Yes. These are the best in this area for dementia. Any of them will take great care of your father. I marked one that I work closely with, but you don’t have to choose that one. I’ll still be Jim’s primary no matter what you decide.
“Thanks.” I take the folder from him and flip through it.
“All of those facilities fit within Jim’s budget. His social security will cover most of it. That was important to him.”
“You’ve already talked to Dad about these?”
“Yes. Shortly after he was diagnosed, we sat down and talked about his options and financial situation. He didn’t want to wait until it was too late, and it all fell on you and your mother. He’s been very proactive. He asked me not to share this with you until I felt it was time. As much as it pains me to say, it’s time.”
Despite my efforts, a tear breaks free and runs down my cheek. “How long have my parents known?”
Dr. Chiles tilts his head with a quizzical stare. “How long have they known what?”
“That Dad has dementia.”
“Oh.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been treating him for about two years now.”
“Two years!” My shock is evident in my voice. I close my eyes and drop my face into my hands. Pain, anger, fear, and regret all rush through me as I process this information.
“I take it they didn’t tell you until recently.”
I nod, no longer able to stop the tears. “They told me just after the new year.”
Dr. Chiles winces and lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know this is a lot to process. Take this with you. Read over it. Call me if you have any questions.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“I would say take all the time you need, but I’m afraid that’s the one thing I can’t give you. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to give your father the best care that I can.”
With one final nod, I gather my things and leave Dr. Chile’s office. As I make my way back to the exam room, my emotions consume me. My legs wobble and a sob escapes. I dart into a darkened hallway and fall against the wall. My legs give out and I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor.
Alone. Scarred. Lost. That’s how I feel.
I don’t know how long I sit there, sobbing, before I finally get my emotions under control. But I still don’t move. I’ve no clue what I’m supposed to do.