Page 32 of Maverick
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, itmight 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.
21
Kat
After returning to the house, Dad went straight for a nap. I didn’t blame him. There was a lot to process and between the drive, the waiting, and the actual appointment, we’d been gone for four hours.
Noodle was due for her afternoon walk. I changed into my workout clothes, hoping a run after Noodle’s walk would burn off my anxious energy. As we were about to step out the back door, my phone rang. I swallowed a groan and answered.
“Kat! How are you? How’s your dad? How’s that North Carolina weather?” Hearing my HR director’s voice was just about the last thing I’d expected for today.
“Hey, Becky. I’m doing well. Dad’s…” None of your business, I wanted to say. And did she really care? It’s not like we were friends. “He’s getting there and the weather’s fine.”
“That’s awesome!”
There was a long silence. “So… How’s work?”
“Oh hon, I didn’t call to talk about work. I wanted to check in and let you know you’re in our thoughts. We haven’t forgotten about you.”
Well, obviously. They didn’t have dementia. And my name was still on the stationery.
She gave an awkward chuckle. “You are on family leave, after all. We respect our employee’s right to a healthy work-life balance.”
I rolled my eyes.
“But since you brought it up…” There it was. Company policy prevented them from contacting me about work while I was on family leave. But there was a loophole if the employee asked first. “I’ll transfer you to Alexa’s line right now. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. Bye!”
“Kat!” Alexa’s warm voice came over the line. “So good to hear from you. Becky tells me you want an update on the budget?”
“I—sure.” It was shady, but Iwascurious and could use the distraction. I shifted back into CFO mode. “How did the meetings with the department heads go?”
