Page 160 of Catch the Sun

Life goes on, life throws frost in your face, but it doesn’t ever dull the warmth of that first spark.

Pete’s eyes gleam with tears as he slings an arm around Matty’s shoulders and tugs him close. “You can’t go back, darling,” he tells me. “You can’t change anything. There’s no changing the past. If you believe you can, you’ll never move forward.”

“So,” Matty adds, “there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” I croak, swiping at my cheeks.

He reaches over the table, takes my hand in his, and squeezes. “Heal.”

Chapter 39

Max

Lewy body dementia.

My father’s diagnosis rolls in on the heels of the worst month of my entire life.

“Your father has what’s known as ‘dementia with Lewy bodies,’ or ‘DLB’ for short,” a young doctor tells me, his light wisps of blond hair a contrast to his dark words.

My eyebrows knit together as anxiety washes over me. “What does that mean?”

Dr. Shay folds forward on the desk across from me, eyes empathetic. “It’s a type of progressive dementia. The name comes from the presence of abnormal protein deposits in the brain known as ‘Lewy bodies.’ These affect chemicals in the brain, leading to problems with thinking, behavior, and mood.” He pauses to allow the information to sink in. “It’s different from Alzheimer’s, though there can be overlap in symptoms. Your father might experience visual hallucinations, vivid nightmares, moments of alertness and drowsiness, and motor symptoms similar to Parkinson’s.”

Night terrors. Shaky hands. Hallucinations. Frequent naps. Memory loss.

Everything funnels through me like a cyclone.

Test after test had been coming up inconclusive, and I was beginning to think that my father was going to be okay. Maybe I’d exaggerated his symptoms. Maybe he was getting older, and with age came memory loss. Maybe the trauma of losing his wife, paired with his injury, was simply catching up to him. Maybe he just had night terrors like some people do.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I cup my jaw and close my eyes. “How do we fix it?” I wonder, wanting to check out. I want to disappear, fade away. I wish for the hard office chair to morph into quicksand. “What’s the cure?”

Dr. Shay tilts his head with a solemn sigh. “Unfortunately, there is no cure,Mr. Manning. Current treatments can help manage some of the symptoms, but they can’t stop the progression of the disease. Our main goal will be to ensure your father has the best quality of life possible, given the circumstances. We’ll work together to develop a comprehensive care plan tailored to his needs.”

He hands me a brochure.

I stare at it like it’s a map of a foreign country I have no desire to visit.

No cure.

No money for treatment.

I’m lucky our state medical plan covered his hospital visits and testing thus far, but I know it won’t cover long-term care.

There’s only me.

No mother, no brother, no future.

I guide my father to his bedroom when I get home and help him on the bed. I give him the news, just like I had to give him the news about McKay four weeks ago.

Dad stares at me with glazed eyes, his hands shaking in his lap. “You’re a good son, Maxwell,” he tells me. “You’ve made me…very proud.”

I’m not sure what he processed, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.

And, in a way, I envy my father. I envy him because one day, I know…

He won’t remember any of this.

I hug him, refusing to let myself cry. Refusing to break down because I’m the only stability he has left. I have to be strong…there’s no other choice.

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