Chapter 20
Kat
“While Mr. Evans was in the hospital, my colleague conducted a series of tests to assess his cognitive skills.” Dr. Snider, the neuropsychologist we finally got in to see, turned to Dad. “Do you remember Sarah?”
It had been about a week since “the incident,” and so far, Dad remembered who I was. That hadn’t stopped Maverick from keeping up the pretense of being my new boyfriend. I crossed my legs and tried to focus on what the doctor was saying and not on the ten inch—
“You mean when I had my appendix out?” Dad’s nose scrunched. “That was so long ago, I can’t remember who I met.”
The doctor shook her head. “No, Mr. Evans. You met Sarah a few weeks ago, when you went to the emergency room for your heart and stayed a few days.”
Dad ran his fingers through his silver hair. “I don’t remember doing that. But then, there’s a lot I don’t remember these days.” He looked down and twisted his hands in his lap.
I reached over and placed my hand over his, my heart breaking.
“I see. Let’s go through the results then, shall we?
Your performance on the tests indicate that you are experiencing cognitive decline.
These same tests were run five years ago, and there is a significant difference.
This would lead me to a diagnosis of dementia, most likely Lewy body dementia given the hallucinations and sleepwalking. ”
My eyes filled with tears, but I willed myself not to cry. I took a deep breath and squeezed Dad’s hand.
“Am I going to die?”
I lost the battle and wiped a tear from my cheek.
“Not today, Mr. Evans. But we all die eventually.”
I cleared my throat. “Is there anything we can do now? Any medication?”
“There may be, but you’ll need to see another doctor for that. I’ll make a note in your chart to get that appointment set up for you.”
I fought the urge to scream. Another fucking appointment.
“The important thing for now,” the doctor continued, “is to make sure you get plenty of rest and take all your medications. With the short-term memory issues, it’s important that someone monitors Mr. Evans’ medication.
Dementia patients will often take too much or too little medication because they don’t remember whether they took it.
You’ll also want to work on making the home safe, especially because of the sleepwalking. No weapons, obviously.”
I nudged Dad with my elbow and he scowled.
“There are also special locks you can put on doors,” she droned on. “They’re similar to the types you see on hotel doors. Those can help prevent sleepwalkers from walking outside and getting lost or locked out.”
Yikes. That was a disaster waiting to happen.
“Now, Mr. Evans, I understand you typically live alone?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, Katie is visiting but she’ll be going back soon.”
Dr. Snider opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pamphlet.
“Medication may help slow the progression of the disease, but eventually you will get to a point where it is not safe to live alone. You could hire a nurse or home health aide to stay with you or move into an assisted living facility with a memory care ward.”
Dad shook his head. “I’m not going into a nursing home.”
“This pamphlet goes over some of the different options. It’s best to discuss this with your daughter now so she can understand your wishes.
I know you’ve already got her listed as your healthcare power of attorney, which was a great decision.
But now it’s time to consider if you want her to have your durable power of attorney as well.
Trust me, it’s much easier to handle that now, even if you’re still able to manage your affairs for a few more years.
My uncle didn’t do that, and my cousin had to petition the court just to sell his car.
Although,” her head tilted to the side, “knowing my cousin, that might have been my uncle’s preference.
You’ll have to figure out what works best for you.
I’m sorry you have to deal with this. It can be very shocking and scary.
But you have time to prepare, and that is a blessing, though it may not seem like one at the moment. Do you have any questions?”
Dad looked up. “Are you sure about all this? I don’t even remember taking the tests. Maybe it was someone else? And you all say I’m hallucinating people, but am I? If you aren’t there to see them, who’s to say they aren’t real?”
Dr. Snider smiled. “Good questions. You did take the tests because we have a picture.” She pulled out a small photo from her file. “This is you, correct?”
Dad leaned forward, scrunching his eyes. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“And for the people you’ve been seeing, can you describe what they look like?”
“Sure.” Dad sat up straight. “They… um… well, they’re kind of… it’s hard to remember. Kind of gray I guess.”
She nodded. “Yes, many of our patients mention that the people they see are kind of wispy, like ghosts. The next time they’re in your house, try to touch them. See if they’ll shake your hand. If they can’t, then they aren’t real.”
Dad nodded, and he turned his gaze back to his lap.
“I’ll see you guys again in six months to check in.”
Dad and I stood up and left the office. We were quiet on the ride home, both of us deep in thought.
What were we going to do? Dad couldn’t live alone.
I’d love to get him into the assisted living facility; maybe we could try that again.
Although the expense was quite a lot. I had no idea how much money Dad had saved, or if he had a pension or any of that stuff.
But even if he did have some kind of income, there’s no way it would cover the facility.
I’d cover as much as I could, but eventually, we’d have to sell his house.
The other option was the home health aide, which would eventually escalate into a registered nurse, but I wasn’t sure that would be any less expensive. Plus when I’d called the agency, they said there was a six-month to a year waitlist.
Maybe Mav would move in? But that was a silly idea. No way that guy would move in to look after my dad. That was my responsibility. But I couldn’t move in. My career—my whole life—was in Maryland. I’d worked so hard to establish my independence. I couldn’t move back in with my parent now.
Besides, if—when—he got worse, what good would I be?
I was barely holding it together now. He’d set a forest fire and tried to shoot me, for fuck’s sake.
And then there was the whole property to take care of.
No, I think Dad would be better off in a facility.
And since we already had an offer on the table from Ivan, it might be time to start thinking about taking it.
What had his card said? Alliance Investments, or something like that?
That sounded kinda bougie. I bet I could get them to raise their offer.