Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Why do you care what he thinks?”
I looked away, staring at the coffee table between us. “Because I have to prove him wrong.”
Dex rubbed his hands together, continuing to stare at me like he didn’t know how to handle this situation.
“Anyway, I’m going to go get some dinner then head back to the office. You guys wanna come?”
“We gotta pick up the kids from day care. Sicily can handle that, so it’ll just be me.”
I stuck out my tongue. “I’d rather it be her.”
He grinned. “And I’d rather it be her instead of you.”
I worked from home the next day and night, my kitchen table covered with textbooks and papers. I would normally go to the office to pull an all-nighter, but now I never knew if Atlas would be there, and his presence was so unbearable that it shattered my focus.
A bottle of wine was on the table, and as the night passed, it got lighter and lighter. Another bottle was opened, and I ordered a pizza because I didn’t feel like cooking dinner. My eyes grew tired from staring at ink on paper and bright screens. My fingers were pruned from constantly licking them before turning the page.
I was exhausted.
I wanted to go out with my friends and have a good time. I wanted to blow off some steam with a hot guy.
But I had to do this—and quickly.
My phone lit up with a text message from Dad. Want to come over for dinner? Bear misses you.
I miss him too, but I have work to do.
You’ve been working a lot lately.
Well, I’ve got a lot to prove lately.
Alright. Love you.
Love you too, Dad.
Atlas and I came to an unspoken agreement not to speak to each other.
And it worked.
We began treatment for Melinda, who was eager to get some relief after a decade of being under constant duress. It was a mixture of medications, but the biggest component of her issue was her diet.
Fixing that alone would dramatically change her symptoms.
This was my favorite part of patient care, starting treatment after an eternity of suffering, to watch the patients light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, to be excited for life once again.
But I didn’t feel that way this time.
My gut told me something was missing.
I hooked her up to the dialysis machine to remove the impurities that her system couldn’t process. Then the medications would begin, along with the new diet I’d outlined for her. She sat there for a while, just on her phone.
I stopped by to visit. “Need anything? We have some apples and grapes in the break room.”
She put her phone down, a young woman about my age. “No, I’m fine. Just eager to get this over with. Feels funny.”
I smiled. “I’m sure it does. You know Prince Philip has his blood cleaned out every year until he passed away. Some people think it’s the reason he lived for so long.”
“Really? Why?”
I shrugged. “Removing toxicity in the blood perhaps. I really don’t know. There’s not enough scientific evidence just yet.” I rose from the chair beside her. “Well, I’m going to get back to work. I’ll check on you later.”
“Dr. Hamilton?”
“Yes, Melinda?” I turned back to her.
“Um, everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“You’re just not…yourself. You’re normally really happy and talkative.”
Because a fucking shadow with the rage of a hurricane swept into my life, but I didn’t say that.
“Do you not think this will work?” Her eyes fell in despair, the fear taking over.
On the spot, I didn’t know what to say, and it was impossible to lie to my patient. “Yes, I do think this will work. But I also believe there’s a chance that we’re missing a second diagnosis. I want you to know I’m working day and night to find it.”
She deflated like a popped balloon, the excitement turning to dread. “Oh…”
I returned to the chair. “I believe that this diagnosis is correct and responsible for most of your pain. Your treatment will dramatically improve your life. But it doesn’t quite explain your other symptoms, so I’m going to keep digging. It’s very common to have multiple diagnoses because it’s rare for people to just have one issue they’re dealing with.” My hand moved to hers. “But this is still a win. This is still exciting. Don’t stress about it.”
I was so stumped that I resorted to Google.
The textbooks didn’t show an illness or disorder that could explain her issues, and I wondered if perhaps there were three diagnoses instead of two. But I wasn’t entirely convinced of that either.
Melinda responded well to treatment, her pain and fatigue gone, her kidneys finally healing after the constant shredding they had experienced. It was nice to see her feel better, to move normally without fear of getting hurt.
But as I expected, her other symptoms didn’t subside.