Swallowing against the huge lump in my throat, I nod anyway.
“I wish I had better news to give you both,” he continues. “For now, Molly, I’d like you to come in every other week so we can monitor your symptoms and treat them the best we can. This is going to be hard on you, but we’ll do everything we can to make you as comfortable as possible. Luckily, my colleague has some experience with this disease, so I’ll be in constant contact with him each step of the way. I’d actually like to bring him in during one of your visits, if you agree.”
“Okay,” I answer stoically.
“And I highly encourage you to get a second opinion. At my request, the tests were run multiple times, but I always suggest getting a second opinion with such a serious diagnosis.”
I trust Dr. Becker with my life, which is ironic because my life is literally hanging in the balance. He’s been my doctor since I was a child, so I know he wouldn’t give me this news unless he was one hundred percent sure.
“Lincoln,” he turns his eyes to my husband, “this is going to be tough for you as well. I’m going to give you my personal number. If anything should happen after office hours, please call me.” He writes something down on a sticky note and hands it to Lincoln. “You can also use it if you just want to talk.
Lincoln nods grimly and stuffs the note in his pocket.
“You both need to remember you’re not going through this alone. Lean on the family you have. The situation is devastating, but don’t let it ruin the time you have left.”
The time you have left.
Two to five years.
Two-year mark. Possibly sooner.
The words have more tears appearing in my eyes.
Dr. Becker spends the next twenty minutes explaining in more detail the effects of GSS and what to expect. The symptoms I’ll suffer through scare me, and from the tightening of Lincoln’s hands in mine, he’s just as terrified.
Lincoln and I are both quiet as we get up from our chairs and leave Dr. Becker’s office. His hold on my hand doesn’t waver, though. It’s Lincoln who makes the appointment to get the kids, Lindsay, and Aubree tested.
Tomorrow. Then two weeks from then until we find out if I’ve essentially signed their early death warrant.
The thought is horrifying and too painful to consider at the moment, so I push it away.
As soon as we’re out the doors of the office, Lincoln yanks me into his arms, and I fall against his chest. There’s no chance I can hold back the loud sob that escapes my chest.
Death is already a scary thing to think about, but I always figured Lincoln and I would live to an old age. We’d watch our kids grow and become parents themselves. Then spoil our grandkids rotten. And if we were lucky, get to meet our great-grandchildren.
All of that is out of the question. I won’t be around for any of it. And what’s worse, Gray and Gemma may not be around either. All because of this deadly illness coursing through me.
“Shh….” Lincoln coos hoarsely in my ear and gently rubs my back. “We’ll get through this.” His voice cracks, like he’s barely hanging on to his own emotions.
My sobs become louder. I won’t get through this, and something tells me Lincoln won’t either.
Chapter Eleven
LINCOLN
Soft cries filter through the room, making my own eyes water not for the first time since the doctor gave us the news. Molly has her face buried in Nancy’s neck as the two women sob in each other’s arms. Douglas, who is sitting on the recliner, watches his wife and daughter grieve over something that hasn’t happened yet, but inevitably will. His expression is tortured.
Each person in this room will lose one of the most precious beings in their lives.
The kids were spending the day with Lindsay. But, after the meltdown in the parking lot, I called Lindsay and asked her to bring the kids to her and Molly’s parents’ house. The original plan was to grab the kids after we stopped by Douglas and Nancy’s and told them what the doctor said. Molly and I were in agreement that after hearing the news that they could be physically affected by this, we needed them close. I saw the struggle on Molly’s face when we stepped through the door and first saw them. She was on the verge of breaking down again, but refused to do so in front of the kids, knowing it would scare them. Even so, I know they knew something was going on when Molly held them extra tight for several extra minutes. Before they could ask, I scooped them both into my arms and held them extra tight too.
Gray’s brows were drawn down when I let him go, but before he could ask what was wrong, I asked him to take Gemma into the living room and put on a movie for them to watch. I could tell he wanted to refuse, but he didn’t. He grabbed his sister’s hand in his and, with one more worried look between his parents, pulled her into the living room. I closed the door behind them. The last thing we need is for them to hear this news before we’re ready.
The hopeful look on Nancy’s face died away when Molly’s expression crumpled the minute we sat down in the family room. A mother’s instinct is strong, so she knew right away something wasn’t right. She just didn’t know how bad it was. When she did, her and Molly both broke down. Lindsay, who’s sitting on the other side of Molly, wraps her arms around her big sister from behind and cries against her back.
I stand with my hands stuffed in my pockets. My chest feels like there’s a huge gaping hole where my heart is supposed to be. I’ve struggled to breathe ever since we left the doctor’s office.
How in the hell am I supposed to make it through losing Molly? Without her, there is no me. I’m only on this earth because she’s here. I can’t fucking breathe without her. She’s my lifeline, and without her, I’m afraid I might wither away.
Nancy pulls back from Molly, her face red and splotchy. She cups Molly’s cheeks and rests her forehead against hers.
Douglas suddenly steps forward and pulls Molly up from the couch and straight into his arms. His eyes close, and a lone tear trickles down his cheek. It’s hard seeing the man cry when he’s normally so strong and steady. Right now, he appears like he’s barely holding on from breaking down.
Nancy’s red-rimmed eyes meet mine, and she gets up from the couch and comes to me. I’ve been a part of this family since I was eight years old. Not by blood, but in a much stronger way. She’s been like a mother to me. She knows how much this is breaking me, just as I know how much it’s breaking her.
“We’re going to get through this,” she says. “We all are.”
Her words are said with force, but they still crack at the end. We might make it through this, but we’ll never be whole again.
She lets me go and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand; it’s a fruitless effort because more follow. She goes back to the couch, and Douglas lets Molly go to sit back down by her mother. I really want to scoop my girl up and deposit her in my lap. Now that my time is limited, I don’t want to give up a second of time touching her. It’s a selfish move, one I barely refrain from taking. The only reason I don’t is because I know these people are hurting just as much as me. Their time is more limited than mine since they don’t live with us.