Colleen took a long walk through the hospital grounds and tried not to think about Hallie’s story, but of course she did, letting the images ricochet off her memories, fireflies trapped in a jar. An hour later, her sister texted her to say the test results were in. Colleen bolted back to the waiting room and arrived just as Dr. Ray entered in her green scrubs. Here, now, Colleen told herself, she would believe what she was told; she would no longer deceive herself by fabricating other possibilities.

In that private room, Dr. Ray grabbed a chair and brought it to face Colleen and Hallie. Gavin was in the exam room getting dressed so they had a moment or two alone.

“The scan shows significant amounts of amyloid plaque. Along with his previous tests, I can say with assurance that your dad has mid- to late-stage Alzheimer’s disease.”

The proclamation dropped into the room like a heavy rock with no way to move it. There was no more faking it. No more denial. No more maybe, couldn’t-be, not-Dad.

“Where do we go from here?” Colleen’s voice was weak. Hallie sat still and quiet, her hands folded in her lap.

“We have new medicines now, but the clinical trials are only for patients in an earlier stage,” Dr. Ray said. “They have not proved to be effective at the stage your father is in.”

“Why did it take so long for us to know?” Hallie spoke up, her hands now flying through the air. “We thought it was just plain forgetfulness.”

Dr. Ray nodded. “Do not blame yourself. You can’t do that. This disease will be enough of a stressor on your family.”

Hallie asked the question Colleen was wondering. “Why is he going downhill so fast? I thought it took years.”

“Sometimes when someone is very intelligent, has a strong social network and higher education, the symptoms are masked for longer. So what looks like rapid deterioration is merely the symptoms finally becoming obvious. And didn’t he recently lose your mother?”

“Yes, about two years ago,” Hallie confirmed.

“Grief and change in routine can make it worse. And she was probably protecting him, helping him.”

Colleen stood then, the information pulsing through her. “How long do we have?”

“No one can say. But he’s definitely moving into the late stages.” Dr. Ray softened her voice. “Has he had outbursts that are out of character?”

“Yes.” Colleen couldn’t deny it. “Just this morning he said a string of curse words that I’d never heard him use. He thinks cursing is lazy.”

“We don’t know,” Dr. Ray said, “whether the aggression and agitation are because of damage to centers in the brain or aggravation at the memory loss. Even so, you must expect more of it. I’m sorry.”