CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Amelia parked her car in the hotel resort’s parking lot, then exhaled heavily. Her stomach was a mess of nerves, and for a moment, she wished that she had asked someone to come with her.
Since she had arrived a bit early, she sat in the car for a few minutes. They weren’t meeting until eight-thirty.
As she sat there, she replayed several scenarios in her head in an attempt to prepare herself for whatever Dr. Donner was going to tell her.
When he’d called earlier in the week, he’d let her know that no one else knew that he had the results from her tests. Not even Julian.
After thinking about it, she’d decided that she wanted to hear the results by herself first. She needed to understand what it meant for her life before she told anyone else what the tests had revealed.
She glanced at the time on her phone, then opened her car door and got out. The morning was warm, though it was cloudy, and there was rain in the forecast for later in the day.
With measured steps, she made her way across the parking lot to the main doors of the large hotel.
When she stepped inside, Amelia glanced around. Dr. Donner had given her the room number for the suite where he and his assistant, Rachel, were staying, so she made her way over to the elevator.
The elegance of the hotel reminded Amelia of Ben and his family. This was the sort of place they’d fit into perfectly.
Although, her family was also involved with the hotel. Her aunt Kayleigh’s husband Hunter was the son of the owner of the resort. And Amelia had had her lessons with Lexi at the resort’s skating rink.
As she stepped into the elevator, Amelia pressed the button for the sixth floor. She clasped her hands tightly as the elevator rose smoothly.
In far too short a time, she was standing in front of the door to the suite.
God, please let this be good news.
Lifting her hand, she rapped on the door. When it swung open, Dr. Donner, the doctor who’d seen her in New York, stood there.
“Amelia,” he said with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. Please come in.”
He moved back, opening the door wider to allow her to step into the suite. Glancing around, she was reminded of the one she’d stayed at in New York.
Rachel, the nurse who had spent a considerable amount of time with Amelia during the testing in New York, was standing next to a table by a large glass window. She smiled in greeting as Amelia stepped further into the room.
“Let’s have a seat,” the doctor said, gesturing to the table.
There were two laptops sitting there, as well as a couple of file folders.
“Would you like some coffee?” Rachel asked. “And maybe a pastry?”
“Coffee would be nice, thanks,” Amelia said as she sat down in the chair the doctor indicated.
“Pastry?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.”
Rachel set a stoneware mug in front of her, as well as a tray with cream and sugar on it.
Amelia poured some cream into her coffee, then added a bit of sugar. Her preference was still a mocha latte, but she’d drink regular coffee if she could add enough cream and sugar.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” the doctor said.
“Thank you for coming all this way.”
“We’re happy to do it,” the doctor said. “It’s best to do this face-to-face.”
“So bad news, huh?” Amelia asked as she wrapped her hands around the mug, hoping the warmth would chase the chill from her fingers.
The doctor’s face had given nothing away, but she supposed that he’d had to develop a poker face in his line of work.
“It’s not bad news necessarily,” he said. “But hopefully, it brings some clarity to your situation.”
She wanted clarity, but she also wanted answers and a cure for whatever it was that had wrecked her body. Somehow she had a feeling that she’d have to settle for clarity.
“So, did the tests show what I have?”
The doctor tapped a few keys on his laptop. “The tests were able to rule out several things. And it’s through the elimination of some things and the results of other tests that we were able to determine what you are dealing with.”
Amelia gripped the mug tightly as the doctor went over each of the tests they’d done, revealing how the results ruled certain things in or out.
She appreciated his thoroughness, but her nerves wished he’d just get to the point.
Finally, he got around to labelling what she had. Not just one, but two different conditions. Neither were completely unknown to Amelia. Using her symptoms, she’d done her own research, and both conditions had come up, along with a slew of other options.
Amelia was glad that the doctor was quite clinical in his delivery because if he hadn’t been, she thought maybe she would have broken down in tears. She’d cried plenty over her physical struggles, but it had never been in the presence of others.
That wouldn’t be changing that morning.
Still, as she listened to the doctor give his final thoughts, Amelia felt deflated. The official diagnosis brought clarity, so that was good. But knowing what she had didn’t change the path she was on.
This wasn’t going to be something she could get over. There was no end in sight to her health challenges. She was going to have to learn to live with her diagnosis and manage her symptoms.
“We have some medications for you,” the doctor said as Rachel set a clear plastic bag on the table with pill bottles inside. “I’m going to have Rachel keep in regular touch with you, and she will be your main point of contact for any concerns or questions you might have.”
“So you’ll continue to oversee my care?” Amelia asked.
“Yes. Julian told me in our initial conversation about you that this would be an ongoing relationship. At the start, I’d like you to have a weekly video call with Rachel.
During those conversations, you can tell her how you’re feeling and what your symptoms are like, and how the medication is working.
If you experience a flare, let her know that and if you think there might be something that triggered it.
We’ll make adjustments to your medication based on what you tell us. ”
“In addition to the weekly call, you can contact me at any time,” Rachel said. “You’ll have my direct number.”
“At the start, we’re going to do monthly bloodwork and try to get you to a stable spot.”
“Where do I get the bloodwork done?”
“We’ll have you go to a private lab in Coeur d’Alene. Or if that’s not convenient, I’m sure we can have someone come to you here in Serenity Point.”
Amelia shook her head. “I can go there.”
It was the least she could do when they were taking care of so much for her.
“The medications will be delivered to you as needed.”
As the doctor explained more details about what she should watch for and what, beyond medication, she could do to help control her symptoms, Amelia tried to take it all in. She appreciated how thorough he was being, but she was overwhelmed.
“Don’t worry if you don’t remember everything,” the doctor said, clearly picking up on her feelings. He tapped a binder that was on the table. “We’ve compiled everything here for you to read through. Plus, you can always ask Rachel any questions you have.”
The rest of their meeting passed in a blur for Amelia, and there came a point when all she wanted was to get back to the security of her apartment so she could break down.
But before she went, there was just one more thing she needed to know.
“Could I still get pregnant with this diagnosis?”
The doctor gave her a long look, but he didn’t seem to be surprised by the question.
“Pregnancy would be considered high-risk, but not impossible. If that’s something you are considering, we’ll work with you to make sure the timing is good, and then we’d closely monitor you and the baby. Information on that is included in the binder as well.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Do you have any other questions?” the doctor asked.
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. There was so much she wanted to know, but there was no room left in her brain.
“I don’t think so.”
After that, their meeting ended. Rachel accompanied Amelia back down to the foyer of the hotel, once again assuring her that she could call with any questions or concerns she might have.
Robotically, Amelia drove back to her apartment. She didn’t even remember reaching it until she came to a stop in her parking spot.
After sitting for a moment in her car, Amelia gathered up the thick binder, her purse, and her phone and went inside the building. With slow, weary steps, she climbed the stairs to her apartment and let herself into the quiet space.
As soon as she shut the door behind her, Amelia sagged back against it, then slid down to the floor, letting the binder and her purse slip from her grasp. She covered her face with her hands and let the tears she’d been holding back for so long flow.
Time seemed to slow as Amelia wept, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. All the fear, uncertainty, and grief she'd been holding back crashed through her like a tidal wave.
The diagnosis wasn’t a death sentence, but it was a life sentence. One that would never let her return to who she'd once been.
She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. Her chest ached with each ragged breath.
This wasn't temporary. This wasn't something she could fight her way through with determination and grit.
This was her future. A future that was far from the life she’d once imagined having.
The hardwood floor was cold and uncomfortable beneath her, but Amelia couldn't find the energy to move. Her body felt impossibly heavy, weighed down by the reality she now had to face.
It wasn’t until the doctor had named the conditions that Amelia realized she’d still been harboring hope. Hope that there would be a clear path to recovery. A treatment that would make her feel like herself again.
Something that would give her back her dreams. Instead, they’d been permanently ripped away.
Her phone buzzed in her purse, and with a sigh, she fished it out. She glanced at the time before checking the message.
10:56