My father is the greatest man I’ve ever known. The bravest and most selfless. He is my rock and my anchor.
And he’s dying.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After the appointment, we don’t talk much about the diagnosis. I think we both just need a little more time to think about what this means for us. How it’s going to change things.
“I’m tired, Jojo,” Daddy says, kissing the top of my head. “I didn’t get much rest last night thinking about this appointment, so I think I’m going to go lay down for a little while.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I say, wrapping him in a big bear hug. “Get some rest. Want me to wake you up for lunch?”
“Sure,” he says with a fading smile.
I know he’s trying to be strong and positive, but like me, he needs time alone to process the news. I want to give him the space he needs, but after an hour alone at the kitchen table googling everything I can find on ALS, I’m about to lose my mind.
I grab my coat and walk over to the garage, hoping Colton’s awake. I know we didn’t end things on the best of terms last night, but I really need him right now.
I’m still not even sure what all that was about last night. One minute everything was going great, and the next he was acting strange. As if I’d offended him somehow. Or upset him. I’m hoping we can put it all behind us now and talk through what’s going on with my dad.
But when I knock on his door, there’s no answer. I take out my cell and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. When I turn around, I realize his truck is gone. I don’t know how I missed that on the way over, except that I’m not thinking clearly right now.
He must have gone out for breakfast or something. I quickly text him, asking him to call me as soon as he can. He knew we were going in for this appointment this morning, so I’m surprised he isn’t picking up. Where is he?
I hope he isn’t still angry with me about the guitar. Or the radio appointment. I wasn’t trying to push him into anything, but he was acting like I’d made a mistake or judged him in some way. Saying that I didn’t want him to keep working at the bar? That was ridiculous. I cherish all our time together, but I do think he’d be great on the radio. All I want is for him to be happy. I never meant for it to upset him.
I sigh and head back to the house. Half an hour later I try calling him again, but again I just get his voicemail. I can’t imagine where he must be. Even if he is upset about last night, he still should be picking up the phone since he knows about the appointment. We’d talked about it a dozen times, and he knows I was hoping we’d get a diagnosis today.
I sit down at the table and cradle my face in my hands. All these weeks, I’ve been dying for a diagnosis so that we could finally fix whatever it was that was going on. I guess in the back of my mind, I knew it might be something that didn’t have a cure. Arthritis or some kind of muscular disease. But I always had faith there would be an effective treatment. Something that would help him manage the symptoms and get back to a new normal.
Only in my worst nightmares did I think he would be diagnosed with a disease that might take his life.
Online, there are stories of survivors who have lived more than five or ten years with ALS, but most of the stories I find in my search are not as positive. Over the course of the morning, I learn that ALS is a cruel disease, slowly taking away most patients’ ability to talk, walk, even eat or breathe on their own. The disease does not affect the mind, though, which in some ways is a silver lining.
On the other hand, it means that the person diagnosed knows exactly what’s happening to them. My father will have to watch his own body slowly fail him, and there will be almost nothing he can do about it.
Reading through the material online, my heart breaks over and over again for my father.