24

"First of all, please take me to the clinic," I instructed Kian and gave him the address. My goal was to find out about my mother's health first. I knew she would never tell me the truth. But to be able to talk to her, I need clarity. "You sure you want to go in there alone?" he asked me, to which I immediately said yes.

The clinic was out of town so we had to drive about forty minutes to get there. When we arrived, Kian parked the car in the lot while I surveyed the building. From the outside it looked like a normal apartment building, except for the big sign with the name on it. I could feel the nervousness building up inside me. Kian gently placed his hand on my thigh and smiled at me encouragingly. "I can come too," he said in a soft voice. "I'll be fine." I told myself and then got out of the car. I took a deep breath and ran to the concrete stairs before stopping in front of a glass door. "Come on. You can do that.", I whispered to myself not to panic. I was afraid of the truth. Fear that my mother was worse than she wanted to admit.

I opened the door, walked through the foyer and arrived at the reception desk, where a slightly older, slim lady was sitting, typing away on her computer. She had short hair dyed red and old-fashioned glasses perched on her nose. When she saw me, she smiled warmly. "What can I do for you, miss?" the lady asked me kindly and looked at me expectantly. I played with my hands nervously, but it didn't help me get down. "I...I'm here because...I wanted to speak to my mother's doctor in charge," I stammered frantically. My heart was pounding against my chest like I was about to give a presentation to the whole class. I hadn't been this nervous in a long time. "What's your mother's name?" she asked. "Jane Graves," I replied to the red-haired woman, who then typed something on the computer. I waited impatiently for them to finally give me information and for me to be able to talk to a doctor about my mother. "Dr Chesterfield is in conversation right now. But you can have a seat in the waiting room." , she said politely and motioned for me to enter the room.

I followed her instructions, sat down on one of the white chairs and waited until the so-called Dr. Chesterfield had time for me.

Approximately twenty minutes passed before the red-haired elderly lady entered the waiting area and led me to another room. "The doctor will be with you shortly," she informed me and disappeared behind the door, which she let slam shut. It opened again shortly after, before a blond-haired man entered and sat down at his desk. He looked young, maybe in his late twenties. He was wearing typical white trousers and a light blue shirt. I eyed him curiously before he spoke. "So you're here about Jane Graves, if I understand you correctly?" I nodded vigorously, my voice getting stuck in my throat. Despite appearing friendly, he exuded a sternness that intimidated me a little. "May I ask how you feel about my patient?" he asked me, without once taking your eyes off me. His brown eyes stared holes in my head, making me uncomfortable. I didn't like being stared at like that, no matter how intensely that.

Excitedly, I tapped a leg to calm my mind. I swallowed before attempting to reply, "I'm your daughter and I'd like to know more about your health." Chesterfield and leafed through the documents that were in a thick folder. The silence was totally tense, which was beginning to tear me apart. Then his deep voice sounded again, which got my full attention. “Well, Miss Graves, I'm not normally allowed to discuss the medical records, even if they're family. But it seems to me that it's important to you, which is why I can turn a blind eye.' It relieved me, since I didn't know how else to deal with the whole thing. Surely my mother wouldn't tell the truth and Owen? I had no intimate bond with him

"Your mother has suffered both physical and psychological consequential damage as a result of years of consumption." , he explained and leafed through the file again. Because I had no idea about the whole thing, it shocked me all the more. "What damage could be diagnosed?" I asked the doctor in a trembling voice. My breathing quickened a little, so I tightened my hands on the handles of the chair. “Physically, it turns out she's developed diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Psychologically, the finding was that personality changes and depression were identified." That also explained to me why she behaved so differently. In contrast to that time, today she no longer had any understanding for my actions or my way of thinking. "Currently, the diseases are treated with medication. However, if it gets worse or there are no signs of improvement, your mother will be forced to go into hospital. Otherwise there is a risk that she may relapse." , he explained the current prospects to me.

I took a deep breath in and out again. It might take me some time to digest this. It wasn't easy to hear that your own mother had gotten sick just because she was acting selfishly.

I thanked Dr. Chesterfield for the interview and walked back out the exit. I stopped in front of the stairs and took a deep breath. I didn't know exactly how to deal with it now. But one thing was for sure - I had to talk to my mother and look for a solution. A solution that was good for both of us. I didn't want to let her down even though she didn't deserve my support. And yet I was ready to want to help her and get through the time together.

I just didn't know in which direction the whole thing was headed...