Dad says the pulmologist (Ok, spell check suggests monologist -- someone who delivers monologue -- but not the correct spelling, "pulmonologist." I gotta remember that additional syllable) called on Sunday to discuss the blood test results, all of which were fine except for the result indicating the presence of antibodies indicative of an autoimmune disorder. She tests positive (but weakly) for the list of autoimmune disorders that would cause the lung scarring she has: systemic lupus erythematosus[SLE], rheumatoid arthritis, progressive systemic sclerosis (diffuse scleroderma), Sjögren syndrome [unlikely because of lack of other symptoms], and dermatomyositis/polymyositis.
I noted Dad's closing the door behind him as he came in to ask about it, the weight he seemed to be carrying as he brought it up. I think he's just realizing there's yet another thing to worry about.
My racing rabbit brain sees him catching up to where i've been since reading the term "honeycombing" and wonders -- is it the shock of the stroke that slowed his attention to this? Or is it aging? And my racing rabbit brain quivers to think of slowing down (more).
There's a prompt that Mom should have a neurology appointment soon. I wonder what value there is in going. I certainly see the value in going for the greater understanding of CAA. Mom as a data point. But does it help Dad's emotional state? How will it help Mom?
A night's sleep helps lighten my sense of all this. I think back though to a tearful moment Christine and i had. Her mortality weighs on her heavily as she watches her eldest sister (never will walk again), her brother (diagnosed with Alzheimer's), and her closest sister (obsessive exerciser, growing estrangement from her spouse). She is very aware of her mother's Alzheimer's disease and death, her father's stroke in 2001 (age 75). I was mentioning changes to the house to accommodate changes in our mobility, she noted she won't be with me. I so hope she will, that we will be happy, and healthy, and without fear.