Page 38 of Woman on the Verge

Merry nodded.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on. A red herring, as we say.”

“A red herring,” Merry echoed.

“And the other tests haven’t shown anything?”

“The CT scan showed some calcification around his basal ganglia. It’s a little unusual in the location and pattern, but I can’t say it’s related to anything yet. His scan is normal for his age. There were no signs of Alzheimer’s.”

“Thank god,” Merry said.

“There are all kinds of dementias, though,” Dr. Lee said with a warning tone. “Dementia is as heterogeneous as cancer.”

“Is there a test for that?” I asked.

“We did the EEG. It didn’t show any seizure activity, but it did show encephalopathy.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Slowing of the brain.”

Merry and I nodded. At this point, my dad had fallen asleep.

“We saw in his records that he had an MRI done about a month ago. Is that right?”

Merry and I looked at each other. She said, “He did?”

Dr. Lee consulted her notes and said, “Yes. You didn’t know?”

Merry said, “No. I wonder if he did that after the fall.”

“And didn’t tell you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “He wouldn’t have wanted me to worry.”

“In any case, that MRI didn’t show a brain tumor or stroke. It was basically normal,” the doctor said. “We may run another for comparison depending on what the lumbar puncture shows.”

“What are you looking for with that?”

“Inflammatory cells. Signs of infection.”

We nodded. There are a lot of nodding and a lot of crying in hospitals.

“There are some incredibly rare neurodegenerative diseases that we’re checking for, just to cover all bases,” she said.

Merry let out another one of her sighs. I felt the need to counteract her negativity, so I said, “We really appreciate that you’re so thorough.”

“Of course,” Dr. Lee said with a tight smile. “I’m hoping we’ll have more information for you tomorrow.”

She left, likely to explain complex medical terms to other families who would either nod or cry.

By the time I got the girls bathed and brushed their teeth and put on their pajamas, it was just after eight. I told them we only had time for one book, but Grace insisted on two, and I didn’t have the energy to negotiate or fight. I sang my usual song—“You Are My Sunshine”—and then closed the door. I stood in the hallway, waiting for one of them to summon me, every muscle in my body tense.Mommy?Often, I hearit in my head and think it’s real—an auditory hallucination. Isn’t that a sign of posttraumatic stress disorder? Is there such a thing as present traumatic stress disorder?

Anyway, they didn’t call for me. Sometimes I think they can tell when I’m hovering at the edge of a precipice. Sometimes I think they know not to push.

I unpacked, took a shower, and got into bed just as I heard the garage door open. Kyle was home.

“Did you win?” I asked when he came into the bedroom, still wearing his cleats, clomping around on the wood floor.

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