Page 14 of Home Changes
Not much had changed. Only now, Chester sat on the edge of the exam table, his shoulders slumped forward, hands worrying the bill of his old feed store cap like it might hold answers to questions neither of them wanted to ask.
Seth really wished it did.
The doctor had been kind and gentle yet thorough when working with his dad. She walked themthrough what she called a routine cognitive screening. The questions sounded simple … until Seth had to watch his father struggle.
“What year is it, Mr. Hansen?”
Chester squinted at the ceiling, breathing hard through his nose. “Two thousand … and … twelve.” His voice cracked.
Seth didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He wanted to correct him so badly it hurt. Wanted to sayCome on, Dad. You know this. How can you not know what year it is?
But he stayed quiet. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The doctor nodded and scribbled something onto her chart without missing a beat. They moved on. The clock test. Chester passed that one. The three-word memory test: apple, table, penny.His dad couldn’t recall any of them when asked. They took a short walk down the hall so she could observe his gait. Blood was drawn. Vitals were checked. A CT scan was ordered.
Chester hadn’t liked any of it, but to his credit, he’d gone along.That,more than anything, scared Seth. Chester Hansen didn’tletpeople do things. He sure as hell didn’t comply without argument.
All those questions. The memory games. Thescans. The medical terms. Not once was the word dementia said. Not once. But Seth could feel it. It hung in the air, thick and heavy, like smoke wafting through every breath. Everyone in the room seemed to ignore it, but it was there.
Afterward, Seth lingered in the hallway while the nurse walked Chester out to the lobby with a paper cup of water and a soft promise:“It’ll only be a few more minutes.”
The exam room door closed with a soft, final click. The quiet settled around Seth like a trap. The humming overhead lights, the faint scent of antiseptic and burned coffee, and a silence that weighed more than it should have.
The doctor returned a few moments later. She was in her fifties, with warm, perceptive eyes and a voice that cut clean through the noise without ever raising in volume. She sat across from him in a rolling chair, no computer, no tablet. Just a plain manila folder resting in her hands.
“Seth, thank you for staying,” she said gently. “I wanted a moment to speak with you alone.”
He nodded, jaw so tight it ached from being clenched all afternoon. “Yeah. Of course.”
He braced himself. Every part of him was waitingfor the hit. She opened the folder, glanced down briefly, then looked up and met his gaze.
“We’re not finished yet. There are still blood test results pending, and we’ll need to review the CT scan before confirming anything officially. But …” She pulled another sheet of paper from the folder. “Based on today’s cognitive screening, our clinical interview, and what you’ve shared with us,” she paused, “your father is showing signs consistent with moderate dementia. Most likely Alzheimer’s.”
The words were clear. Gentle. Carefully chosen. And they hit like a fucking draft horse kick to the gut. Seth swallowed hard. “So … this isn’t just him forgetting where he put his keys.” He shook his head and lifted a hand. “No, don’t answer that. I know it’s not.” He shook his head. “You’re going to think this is stupid, but I was hoping that maybe it was something else. Hoping for a miracle, you know, because that isn’t my dad, and … well, I’m not going to lie, the road ahead scares the heck out of me.”
The doctor gave him a soft, sad smile. “It isn’t stupid. Everyone in your situation likely hopes and prays for a miracle, but you’re right. This won’t be easy. I understand the fear of the unknown. Unfortunately, you’ll need to walk that road with him because what he’s dealing with is beyond normalaging. He’s confused about time, place, and the sequence of events. His ability to problem solve is impaired. You witnessed that yourself today. And you said he left the stove on twice since you’ve been home? How long have you been staying with him?”
Seth closed his eyes and nodded, then opened them to meet the doctor’s gaze.
“Almost two weeks. It took a while to get in to see you,” he murmured.
“That’s understandable,” she said gently. “He’ll need supervision … more structure in his schedule. A routine will help. However, he’ll likely need assistance with daily tasks. More than someone just checking in on him now and then.” She paused. “Are you staying with him currently?”
“Yes.” Seth nodded once, steady and resolute. “Until he needs more than I can give.” His sister Sarah had a family counting on her in Aberdeen. He had no ties except Gomer. He’d stay.
The doctor studied him for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Does he have his legal paperwork in order? Medical power of attorney, end-of-life directives?”
“Not yet, ma’am. I just got home. The physical was the priority. However, I’ll be meeting with a lawyer in Hollister to finalize everything. We’ll makesure he’s aware of what’s happening before he signs anything. She’s a court officer, so I’m sure she’ll arrange for witnesses to confirm he’s lucid and understands what he’s signing.”
“Good,” the doctor said. “There are some medications that may help manage the symptoms. Maybe even slow the progression a little. We’ll go over options once all the test results are in.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but unwavering as she continued, “But you need to understand something, Seth. This is a progressive illness. Itwillget worse. Not overnight, of course, but gradually, steadily. You’ll see him slip. Sometimes the slips will be grand, sometimes it will be little things.”
Seth turned his head, staring hard at the whiteboard on the wall behind her desk. It was covered in clips of articles and hospital posters, but none of it offered a miracle.
“Ma’am … he’s always been so damn stubborn,” Seth said, his voice low. “Never asked for help. Never let me in. I pray that changes.”
The doctor offered him a quiet, sympathetic smile. “That might not change. But howyourespond, well, that’s what matters. And you’re already doing the right thing by bringing him in.”
Seth nodded, emotion thick in his throat. At leasthe’d done this one thing right. “Okay, what happens now?”
