Uncalm expectation

It is finally time. We've been eagerly awaiting the results of the investigation.
Today is the day when there will be more clarity. Clarity about my father's health.
Because of start-up problems in the morning, the consultation at the neurologist is scheduled in the afternoon.
We arrive at the hospital that is very familiar to me and feels familiar.
I spent years working there with great pleasure as a sister. But now I have taken on a different role and I see the hospital from another side, as a concerned daughter who worries about her father's health.
The familiar feeling for the hospital is still there, only now it is accompanied by anxiety.
We log in to the counter neatly and take places in the waiting room and then it's waiting for her doctor to call us in by name. How much time can move forward terrifying slowly if you wait.
The clock is ticking, a minute feels like an hour. I'm staring at the clock and suddenly I'm away from the world.
As I stare at the clock we are called by name by the doctor but I did not respond at first.
Then we are called back to the name... back to reality. From the fright, I rise straight up and push forward my father sitting in a wheelchair. The friendly doctor I know from the corridors takes us to his room.
It's a small white room with red chairs. There's just enough room for the three of us to sit. And then it is. Sighs... the long-awaited conversation finally takes place. The results are communicated by the doctor.
The questions immediately come to mind. Can my father's health be improved?
What are the treatment options? While the doctor explains my father's ailments, I try to process what he says exactly. The first four words come in immediately... the disorders are progressive.
The doctor found my father Parkinson's and Lewy body dementia. Both conditions are progressive.
Suddenly it gets vague in my eyes... I see the doctor's lips moving but I can't follow what the doctor says anymore. Brain error. My dad ticks me and asks what the doctor says. My father speaks poor Dutch and can't follow it very well. I ask the doctor to repeat his explanation. While the doctor does this, I try to translate it as well as I can so my father can understand what it's about. My father asks if there are no medicines to eliminate the diseases, but I had to disappoint him by saying that the medication can only suppress the conditions. With sadness in the eyes and a disappointing look, my father looks at me and asks if we're done.
My dad wants to get out of the hospital and go home where he feels safe. My father realizes that his life has changed forever.
A condition requires acceptance. The question is only is it tolerable? That you get your nose pressed on the facts every time. A progressive disorder requires adjustment of expectations and setting to what is there.
And that he must live with limitations that can demand a lot of attention. Searching for balance will be a challenge for my father, but also for the rest of the family.
We now rely on each other as a family to support each other with a condition that has drastically changed our lives, but now that there's more clarity about my father's health, there's no tension left. Now we can take the time to get used to the situation. #lewybodydementie