Chapter 4 - What the Doctor Saw
At the urgent-care clinic, Mom apologized to the nurse for taking up a bed.
"That's what it's for," the nurse said, adjusting a blood-pressure cuff. "You don't need to apologize."
Mom apologized again.
Dr. Shah found dehydration, weight loss, a tender wrist, and bruises in different stages of healing. She asked Mom questions privately. I waited outside until she invited me back with Mom's permission.
"Your mother says she has not been receiving her medications regularly," she told me. "We need to review her prescriptions and make sure she's safe."
Mom stared at the blanket. "Daphne said my pills made me difficult."
"Did a doctor say that?"
"No."
I held my anger so tightly my teeth hurt. Dr. Shah documented what Mom reported, referred us for follow-up care, and gave us written discharge instructions.
On the drive to my apartment, Mom watched the dark fields through the window. She looked older than seventy-one.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
"At first it was little things. They took over the groceries. Then my mail. Nico said they needed help getting back on their feet. I thought families were supposed to help each other."
"Not like this."
"He said if I made trouble, I'd never see him again."
I parked outside my building. For a long moment neither of us moved.
"Mom, I'm sorry I believed you when you said everything was okay."
"I wanted you to have one part of your life that wasn't about taking care of me."
Inside, I made toast and scrambled eggs. Mom ate at my little kitchen table. Halfway through, she put down her fork and cried.
After she fell asleep, I checked the clinic paperwork beside her prescription list. There were medications she should have taken daily, but the pharmacy record showed no refill for nine weeks.
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Then my phone lit up with a text from Nico.
STOP ASKING ABOUT THE HOUSE. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY'VE ALREADY DONE.
