My 78-year-old mother confessed to me through tears: “Your father forbids me from going to the doctor. Every evening, he forces me to take some of his own medication and tells me not to tell anyone.” I was horrified. The next day, I secretly took my mother to the hospital. But when I saw the test results, my legs gave way beneath me, and I collapsed to the floor…

I nodded.

My mother’s mother had died years earlier, after suffering from severe memory loss for a long time.

“Linda was terrified that the same thing would happen to her,” my father continued. “And I was terrified too.”

“But what about the pills?”

My father wiped his eyes.

“I thought some of my medications might help her. A doctor had prescribed them to me for a completely different condition. I didn’t understand how they worked. I simply convinced myself they would do her good.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Dad, you could have seriously harmed her.”

“I know.”

His voice broke.

“And the worst part is that when she started getting worse, I was afraid to admit what I had done.”

I stared at him.

“Then why did you keep canceling her doctor’s appointments?”

My father began to cry.

“I was the one who made the first appointment. But then I realized the doctors might discover what I was giving her. I was afraid Linda would never forgive me. So I postponed the appointment. Then I postponed it again. Every day, I told myself I would take her the next day. And every day, I became even more afraid.”