Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
McNally clears his throat. “You found the lump two weeks ago?”
“Yeah, and I called the next morning. Today was your first available appointment.” It’s a little jab, but he should know how anxious I’ve been and didn’t want to wait—not for something this important.
He nods, stands, and tells me to lie back. This is the uncomfortable part: the examination. He pushes and asks the same question repeatedly. “Does this hurt?”
“Nothing hurts,” I tell him. “I found the lump while showering. I feel fine, mostly.”
“What doesn’t feel fine?” he asks as he continues his assessment of my body.
I shrug, not that he’s looking at my shoulders or my face. “Just not dealing with a break-up very well, and now this.”
“Have you been eating?” he asks. “I noticed a considerable decline in your weight.”
“Not really.”
McNally pulls his hands away, takes his gloves off and tells me I can sit up and close my robe. I do as instructed and wait while he writes something down and types on the computer in the room. “I’m ordering some tests. They need to be done today. If you have plans, please cancel them. You’re going to be here for a while. As far as your weight loss is concerned,”—he turns and looks at me—“the questionnaire you filled out when you arrived shows you’re dealing with some depression, which makes sense if you’re going through a break-up. I’m going to prescribe you an antidepressant, and I want you eating. If I don’t see weight gain by our next appointment, I’m going to put you on some supplements.”
“Okay.” What else am I supposed to say?
“Is there someone you can call to accompany you today?”
I shake my head slowly. “Not really.” The only people would be Elle and Quinn, and neither of them need to know about this. Just another stab in the gut when it comes to my life—they’re all I have.
Had.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell my doctor. “I can go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.”
He eyes me suspiciously and for good reason. “It’s important, Ben.” I nod and fight back tears when he stops and places his hand on my shoulder. “Get dressed. I’m going to send someone in. They’ll stay with you during your testing. You don’t want to do this alone today.”
I say nothing out of fear. I’ll choke on my words. As soon as the door closes, tears fall from my eyes. I don’t wipe them away, there’s no point. More follow. By the time the knock sounds on the door, I realize I’ve sat there and bawled my eyes out. I clear my throat and ask for a minute, and then dress hastily.
On the other side of the door is an older man in a UCLA ball cap. He smiles, extends his hand, and tells his name is John. “I’m a retired firefighter and volunteer at the hospital. Doc says you would like someone to keep you company today.”
I didn’t say that, but I can’t stomach the thought of turning this guy away. “I’m Ben. Dr. McNally is ordering me some tests for today and I can’t leave.”
“Yep, I gotchu. We’re going to take the skywalk over to the hospital. I’ll give you a tour of all the secret passageways, as long as you don’t tell anyone, and then we’ll hit the cafeteria for lunch. My favorite chef, Beulah, is working today, and she will make us whatever we want, whether it’s on the menu or not.”
“Nice perk.”
“It’s all about the charm,” he says. “Are you ready?”
Nope. “Yeah.”
John talks the entire walk to the hospital. He’s popular and we stop often to chat with the people we run into. He introduces me each time, as his friend, and for some odd reason, this makes me feel like I matter. I like him instantly.
We start the tour in the basement. Not ideal, since this is where the morgue is. Thankfully, John only shows me the door and we don’t actually go in there, even though he says he’s friends with the staff. Not surprising.
He weaves us through a series of tunnels, which were used mostly back in the heyday of Hollywood to hide celebrities who came for medical care. This was long before tinted windows were a thing. John says even now, some celebrities use the tunnels to hide from the paparazzi, even though they’re not allowed on the premises. They’ll sneak in and use their phones or some other Inspector Gadget type device to capture the elusive proof.
Before we even make it to the cafeteria, my phone rings and I’m summoned to report to the lab to have my blood drawn, and then I’m to go right to ultrasound. Everything seems easy, yet my heart races with fear. John holds true to his word and stays with me through both my appointments, except he stands outside the ultrasound room during the procedure.