Between the Lines

Chapter 3

It seemed like hours had passed since Gerald found out, the second time, about his wife passing. Derrick, still in the same position was going through every possible thing that could have caused his dad to forget that his beloved had passed away. Then it clicked. It wasn't the type of click like a light bulb going off inside his head, it was like the light of Hell's flames bringing forth the harsh reality to Derrick's attention; his father had Alzheimer's. Last night he attacked Derrick because he didn't recognize him. His father had also forgotten all about the tragic event that took place four years ago with his mother; it finally made sense. "Dad."

"What, son?" He muttered depressingly from his position on the floor.

"It's time to go to the doctor; you need to go."

"Okay, for my yearly checkup right? With Doctor Hangles?"

"No, Dad," Derrick said, getting up from his seat to help his father up. "With Doctor Strawn. Come on Chloe, you can come too." Slowly walking to his dad's suburban, Derrick helped his Dad into the passenger side, and opened the back door for Chloe. Walking around the back, he opened the trunk to retrieve his pistol and tucked it into his back pants, and hopped into the driver's side. Turning the ignition, he revved the engine a few times and then they were off.

***

Tick-tock on the clock. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Stale; everything was stale. The white fluorescent lights burning my eyes; the white floor reflecting my own sorry image, with my head in my hands; the white walls mocking the dark clothing that was glued to my skin, even I felt stale inside one of Doctor Strawn's many little cubicles. The whole vibe of this place is off. Hours seemed to pass by before Dr. Strawn finally made his arrival known with a light knock on the pale wooden door and the subtle unhitching of the lock. The stereotypical greetings were exchanged in a dull manner to and from both parties. Dr. Strawn seemed in a not so ecstatic mood - wonderful. I gave him the basic knowledge of my father, since he apparently thought it was nap time up on the examination table. Sixty four years old, five foot nine, two hundred and thirty pounds, type two diabetes, but overall healthy as of his last check-up last year; he had no joint pain, no arthritis; everything was good, except his diabetes. "Okay, so what seems to be the problem, Derrick? Obviously, since his last checkup he has been healthy, and that was only four months ago. I really do not have the time for your naïve, ignorant little problems that you seem to have noticed with you father. Is it a splinter? A toothache? What about a headache? What abo-".

Fed up I cut him off rather rudely, "Listen here, bud." Standing up at my full height now my finger was in his chest. Standing at six foot two, I was a good seven inches taller than him. Wide-eyed, I could see a flick of fear in his eyes, but he did not cower back. "You see that man on that examination table right there? He has always been there for me day in and day out; you will not bad mouth me, or my father, or anyone else in my family for that matter. My father is a good man. I have obviously known his as long as I have lived, which is twenty three years, so I know when something is wrong with my father. My records may say that I am a good for nothing kid, but that does not mean that I do not love and care for my aging father. Now I am paying you one hundred damn dollars for you to use your 'big smart Einstein brain' to tell me what in the hell is wrong with my father, and you are going to do just that. I didn't drive nine hours to be talked to like a child by a doctor who is only three years older than me. Understood?"

Visibly, he gulped. I was not yelling, but a deadly calm voice is always more frightening than a strained yell. "Understood," he said almost reluctantly.

"Good, now let me tell you why I brought my father here on this fine Monday morning," and so I explained the events that took place yesterday, and my suspicion of his condition. Listening rather intently, Dr. Strawn seemed to feel the need to wake my napping father. With a slight nudge on the shoulder, I woke my father. "Hey Dad," I said with a slight smile. "How 'bout you talk to the doc for a minute, would ya?" He grunted in response. Then began the doc's assessment of my Dad's deteriorating brain. I know the crease in my brow deepened significantly as the assessment went on, and on - seemingly never ending. Hours later, or in reality forty five minutes later, Dr. Strawn shook my Dad's hand, and told me to follow him out into a consultation room. He then sat down in an identical comfy, padded chair across from me in front of a computer, and began typing almost furiously.

"Okay," he finally said, addressing me in his 'doctor tone'. "After doing a full assessment of your father, physically and mentally, I have concluded that your father not only has Alzheimer's, like I know you suspected, but he also has Dementia. I am going to put him on several medications, to postpone some of the deterioration, but they have side-effects. The side-effects for some of the medications is that he will have increased urination, and he may lose his sense of self, meaning his whole demeanor, his whole personality may change for the worse, or the better; I do not know that part; it varies on the perosn. He also will not be able to drive or operate any machinery, and it says here that he is retired so that is one good thing," he tried to offer me a smile, but my shoulders we sunken, my face was pale, and I felt like killing the man before me, as if he had any part in the condition of my beloved father. Tears were felt at the edges of my eyes, but I absolutely refused to let them fall.; I would not look weak in front of one of my foes. Straightening my back, and trying to put off an 'I don't give a shit vibe', I stood shook his hand, and told him to send the prescription's to Reign's Pharmacy. Passing my father's cubical on the way, I collected him, he put his hand on my shoulder, smiling I attempted the same, and we walked, father and son, to the suburban with Chloe waiting in the back seat. On the nine hour drive back to our home in Coos Bay, I tried to explain my father's situation to him, but all the way, he just kept obliviously smiling the whole time.