every other way. Let me at least give you my support.”
Tears brim in her eyes, but she blinks them away before they can fall.
“I hate this so much,” she whispers. “I hate what this is going to do to you and the kids.”
“I hate it too, but Molly, I’m in this with you. All the way to the end.” My voice breaks on the last word.
We stare at each other for several long seconds before Molly looks back at the doctor. “It happens almost every day. It’s little things mostly. Like forgetting where we keep the plates or which drawer holds my shorts. There have been a few instances where I’ve forgotten more important things, though.”
Dr. Becker spends the next few minutes typing notes on his laptop.
“Is this normal?” I ask him once he’s finished. “It seems like she’s progressing pretty fast.”
Dr. Sanders speaks. “There is still so much we don’t know about this disease. With so few cases, it’s hard to do extensive research. For most cases, the average life span is three years. Though there have been some patients who lived a couple of years beyond that. But on the opposite end, there have been a few patients who didn’t last a year. It mainly depends on the onset of the disease.”
Fear spikes through me at the mention of less than a year. I hide the emotion behind a tense jaw.
“Dr. Becker said you had a patient with GSS. How far along are they?”
He frowns. “She was diagnosed thirty-eight months ago.”
“And can I ask how she’s doing?”
His voice turns gentle. “She passed away a couple of months ago after being in a coma for a month.”
“Oh.” Molly deflates in her chair beside me. “So, that means my time could be shorter than what we originally thought?”
“It’s a harsh disease. Each person is different. There’s no rhyme nor reason as to why some people live longer than others. You were diagnosed a couple of months ago, correct? And exhibiting symptoms for several weeks prior?” He looks to Dr. Becker for confirmation. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean when you first started experiencing symptoms that was the onset of the disease. It could have been present already, and you just didn’t show signs or discounted them for something else. The only thing we can do is make you as comfortable as possible.” He pauses. “And to advise you to not waste the time you have left. Enjoy your family and friends. Don’t let this disease define you, Molly. You are more than this illness. Laugh and love as hard as you can.”
“I’m trying.” She sniffs. “But it’s so hard.”
“Unfortunately, it will get harder,” Dr. Becker inserts, drawing Molly’s attention to him. “But I know you’re a fighter, Molly. You fight those depressive thoughts and don’t let them control you. Take every minute you’re given with Lincoln, the kids, and your family. If you can’t control the depression, there are resources we can use to help.”
“Like what?”
“Therapy and medication.”
We spend the next few minutes talking over more of Molly’s symptoms, the possibilities of what could come next, and what medicines may give her some relief. It was a disheartening visit, but what we learned wasn’t all that surprising. Molly and I both have done extensive research on the internet on Gerstmann-Straussler-Scheinker, hoping by some miracle there is some clinical trial somewhere or special treatment plan some far off doctor was experimenting with. Not a fucking one. The disease is so uncommon, there are not enough people who have it to give doctors the opportunity to test theories. In a nutshell, Molly has zero chance of surviving this. There’s not even a hint of a way to slow it down either. And Molly’s mental and physical health is declining quicker than expected.
I hold on tight to Molly’s hand as we leave the doctor’s office with an appointment card for her next visit in four weeks.
Several hours later, after having spent the last few hours at Lindsay and Joe’s house eating dinner and spending time with them, I open Molly’s door and help her out of the car. Lindsay asked if the kids could spend the night. I’m sure she could sense Molly’s depressive mood and wanted to give us some alone time together. I could have kissed her when she made the suggestion.
The sun set about an hour ago, but the night is clear and beautiful. On impulse, instead of leading Molly to the front door, I steer her around to the back of