Chapter 31
Layla
Layla’s Life List
Have a water fight
Go to second base
Have an orgasm in public
Go on the best date of my life
Cuddle by the fire
Have a man throw themselves at my car (Kieran forced me to write this one)
My nerves are absolutely frayed and despite nothing being wrong no matter how much I tell my brain I’m fine it seems to be freaking out that I’m currently sitting in a doctor’s waiting room.
Even the book in my hand has gone unturned. I’ve read the same page five times now.
Usually books are my comfort, the one thing in my life that never failed me like my body continually did, but I haven’t had to go to a doctor’s office in nearly three months. I haven’t missed the antiseptic smell or the sound of children’s snotty sniffles and coughs.
I didn’t miss this one bit and sitting in this uncomfortable plastic chair is bringing back horrid memories of the countless visits to doctors growing up and everything I had to miss because of them.
Like my senior prom, because I suddenly became borderline comatose.
The water park field trip because I couldn’t stop vomiting.
Bella’s fifteenth birthday. I couldn’t put balloons on her locker like I had planned because I physically couldn’t walk.
My bones wouldn’t stop aching, making me feel like I was ninety-eight, not fifteen.
Memory after memory of a childhood filled with exciting plans only to be forced to cancel bombards my mind to the point my chest begins to get uncomfortably tight.
“Layla Carson?” a middle-aged man asks from the end of the hall.
Sighing, I stand, giving him a small smile to indicate that’s me.
His lips thin. I think he’s trying to smile? “Follow me.”
He beckons me through to a standard room with an examination table on the left, his corner desk to the right, along with two worn-out leather seats placed in front of it. There’s no photo frames on the walls, nothing to indicate a life outside of this windowless room.
“Have a seat, please.”
He clicks on his mouse, shaking it from side to side to wake the computer up and types on his keyboard. I sit in the chair, already knowing that he’s pulling up my file. I never understand why they don’t do this beforehand.
His eyebrows shoot upward.
Yep, he’s just seen how long my file is.
He whistles under his breath. “Right, and what brings you in this time?”
My stomach sinks; I apparently didn’t luck out today with a good GP. I’ve seen so many doctors in my life that I know within the first five minutes how an appointment is going to go, and this one is about to be torture.
Goddamnit, why did Dr. Martinez, my preferred GP have to retire while I was in Berlin?
Forcing a strained smile on my lips, I say as sweetly as I can, “I wanted to talk about my contraceptive options.”
He frowns. “Right.” Sighing, he turns his head back to his computer, typing away. “I’ll subscribe the standard birth control—”
“Oh, sorry,” I interrupt, only to be frowned at. “I’m not sure if it’s in my file but I’m currently on a trial medication. I was in Berlin this past year. I just want to see what would be the best contraceptive fit for my current medical plan.”
He lowers his head to look at me over the rim of his glasses. “Yes, and like I was saying before, I will prescribe you—”
“You didn’t even ask about my medication, though. How do you know if it’s compatible?”
His jaw clenches. “Do you know what medication you’re on?”
Do I know what I put inside my body every day to help me function? Yes, yes I do.
Listing the medication off the top of my head, I can tell I’ve surprised him. He reluctantly nods. “Well, if that’s your daily dosage, I would recommend a different brand.”
My left eye twitches.
This is not new to me.
Needing to be firm yet polite to advocate for myself. Dancing the fine line between being placid and yet needing to be stern without the doctor becoming irritated and dismissing you.
It shouldn’t be this way.
You should never have to monitor yourself this way in the medical field, but as someone that has seen more doctors than movies, I can firmly attest that it occurs. And unfortunately, it’s more prevalent for women.
The number of times where my symptoms were dismissed as hormones, a bad period, or anxiety is far too many. I was borderline gaslit that I was fine and look at me now, having to spend over a year in Berlin for treatment.
I was so angry in the beginning, angry and hurt that the person you pay to see to make you feel better never believed me and told me it would go away, only for it to get worse as time went on.
There are good doctors in the world, fantastic ones that are kind and compassionate toward their patients. However, that does not outweigh the horrendous ones that give the medical system a bad name. The horror stories I’ve not only heard but have experienced first hand are atrocious.
It took until I was seventeen to be properly diagnosed, and before that it was years of hospitalizations, emergency runs, and doctor appointments. It flipped my world upside down, and destroyed my parents.
I saw every day how hopeless they were feeling.
It wasn’t until one severe emergency visit that it changed.
A doctor had just placidly told my mother I could barely move, let alone open my eyes, because I obviously had endometriosis.
I wasn’t even on my period or at a time in my cycle where I’d be flaring up.
My mother lost it.
All her smiles and positive attitude flew out the window —I also think running on two hours of broken sleep had a hand in this—she screamed. Momma Bear Carson—who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who never raised her voice besides to cheer someone on—screamed.
That one moment fueled by five years of pain, heartache, dismissal, gaslighting, and unanswered questions was what finally got me answers.
A doctor who was visiting town saw my mother at her breaking point, begging the doctor to do his job and search for what was really wrong, and stepped in.
Dr. Montary was my saving grace.
It took her an hour of poring through my file and asking me questions to tell me she thought I had lupus.
One hour.
Despite knowing what it could possibly be, being diagnosed was a different story, an entire new battle for me and my family to face—years upon years of searching for something that would work to manage my symptoms. Years spent on useless hope, disheartened breakdowns, pills that never worked, treatments that did more harm than good.
Endless trips around the country only to leave sobbing.
That was my life. Managing doctors and appointments and realizing that to get what I needed, I had to be the perfect mix of sweet and stern.
And I need to do it again with this asshole.
Who the hell recommends a generic birth control that comes with a literal sheet of side-effects the size of the Bible while they’re currently taking heavy medication?
It’s negligence.
I shouldn’t have to do his job for him. If I was unaware and trusted doctors blindly, I’d be screwed.
With anger simmering in my veins, I take a calming breath and smile at the man when what I really want to do is throttle him. Kieran would be proud of me for swearing at him in my head, although something tells me if Kieran were here beside me, he’d be doing more than swearing in his mind.
“That would be great. Are you certain it’s safe for me to take beyond the standard long list of side-effects?”
“Side-effects are common with all drugs but yes, Miss Carson, it’s perfectly fine,” he says as if I’ve bored him to death. Whistling as he looks at his computer again, he asks, “So what do you have? Jesus, you’ve got a long rap sheet.”
I’m clenching my teeth so tightly I swear they might snap. “Lupus.”
“Ahh. I’ve not had a patient with lupus before. If you ask me I think it’s too inconsistent to diagnose. Coming and going like that, it’s more likely you just have a weak immune system and you catch a bug too often.”
Did he just…
Snatching the prescription he holds out for me, I keep my hands at my sides so I don’t cause bodily harm. “Thank you for your input but I was diagnosed at seventeen—”
“There’s a large portion of the medical field who don’t believe in the disease.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
And he is clearly one of them.
He looks at me over the rim of his glasses. “I wish you all the best, Miss Carson, and that you find what works for you to finally settle that weak immune system and fight off those bugs.”
My fists are clenching the wheel so tightly my knuckles have turned white.
I scream.
I scream bloody murder so loud and for so long that my voice cracks, until the anger gives way to what it’s masking—pain.
Sobs wrack my body so thoroughly I’m forced to pull my car over on the side of the road.
It never fails to amaze me when this happens.
A literal doctor diminishing and invalidating the disease I was diagnosed with close to ten years ago. The one that, contrary to his stupid beliefs, is very real, so real in fact that I participated in a year-long trial run of medication that has thankfully stopped my flare-ups.
But no, this small-minded doctor who no doubt became one over forty years ago doesn’t want to learn anything new. There is nothing worse than a doctor unwilling to learn as they age.
And yet my stupid tears won’t stop flowing. Usually I’d call Bella but I know Allie and Carlton are back in town again for a few days and she’s dealing with her own heavy feelings of not having her mom around.
So I dial the one person I know I can always count on.
“Hi honey, how did it go?” Mom says sweetly, answering after the first ring.
She’s always quick to answer. Once I got sick, she made it her personal mission to never miss a phone call again after one of the school nurses tried to call and she missed it. I was sick in the nurse’s station for over three hours and had to be hospitalized due to dehydration.
She never forgave herself for it.
Letting out a shuddering breath, my head drops back on the headrest. “Could have gone better.”
Some might think it’s odd I told my mom I was going to the doctor to be put on birth control, but she’s nursed me back to health for so long that she’s already seen everything.
“Oh no, what happened?”
I laugh, but it holds no humor. “Would be easier to answer what didn’t happen. I didn’t get a kind or friendly doctor, I didn’t see someone who asked what medication I was on, and I didn’t see a doctor that thinks lupus is real.”
My mom’s sudden intake of breath has my eyes closing. “You’re kidding me,” she hisses over the line.
“I wish I was.”
“Did he not see on your file that you were in Berlin getting treatment for the disease?”
“He barely skimmed it. I had to force him to triple-check that I could take the birth control he was giving me with my current medication, and then as I left he said he hopes I figure out how to make my weak immune system better so I don’t keep catching ‘bugs.’”
“I’m going to strangle the bastard.”
“You and me both.”
“I can’t believe there’s still doctors who don’t believe…even with all the evidence to prove it.” I can hear the tiredness in her voice, the devastation.
“People are stupid.”
“They’re thick-headed, that’s what they are.”
My gaze flicks to the time on the dash. “Thanks for letting me rant, Mom. I have to get back on the road though.”
“Okay, sweetie, please call if you need me, okay? I’m just one click of a button away.”
Now I smile, a real one this time. “Thanks, Mom.”
Hitting end, I flick my blinker on and pull back onto the road, stealing myself as I drive to not Kieran’s house but my best friends.
Doing this after my doctor’s appointment might not have been the best decision. My stomach is still churning with anger, simmering at his words, when this moment should be special. At least, I want it to be.
I don’t want to feel the lingering anger, but here I am, shaking off the ugly grime and smiling wide as I watch my best friend come to answer the door. Bambi comes barreling in behind her.
“Hey! Best surprise ever, what are you doing here?” she asks.
She opens the door farther, inviting me in, and as I walk through Bambi’s tail wildly thumps the door, the walls, the entryway table, and she’s none the wiser.
“Well, surprise it is, because I have something for you.”
Bella chuckles as she ushers Bambi to the living room where her tail can’t knock anything over. When she turns back to me, I find I’m suddenly nervous.
Peering around, I ask, “Is anyone home? Grayson’s parents are here for a few days again, right?”
She smiles. “Grayson took them out to give me some time to draw.”
“That’s sweet.”
Her cheeks tint. “He’s very attentive.”
Before Bella can ask about the surprise, I pull the teddy bear from behind my back, holding it out for her.
It’s the childhood bear her mom gave her. Its brown body is a little ratty from years of love, the green and black striped shirt it’s wearing desperately needing a wash despite Bella’s refusals.
Her brows furrow as she looks from me to the bear. “Uh, Lil, why do you have Mr. Freckles?”
“I stole it,” I confess, biting my lip.
“How the hell didn’t I notice?”
“Maybe because Grayson is so attentive,” I tease.
She snorts, taking the bear from me, inspecting to see if he’s all right. “Thank you for giving it back but I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why did you take it?”
Before I can lose my nerve, I step forward, pressing the button I had inserted this week and letting it explain for me.
A soft female voice fills the living room.
The moment it does, Bella’s eyes widen, tears pooling instantly.
“Hi, my love! I’m just calling because I miss your gorgeous face. Call me back soon please, I miss you. Talk soon!”
The tears turn into a river as her eyes close, her face shuddering. She falls back onto the couch, clutching the bear to her chest, and breaks, sobs wracking her body.
My own tears begin to fall freely.
After Bella confessed how she was feeling about her mom and how she misses her on the days that Grayson’s family is in town, how hard it’s been to cope, I knew I had to do this for her.
I’ve caught her listening to the voicemail she kept from her mom from over two years ago a million times. I just wish I had done it sooner.
Sitting beside my best friend, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She turns toward me and loses it, her chest heaving, shoulders shaking as she bawls.
“T-thank you,” she heaves through hiccups. “Thank you for giving me this.” She presses the button again and Trisha’s voice fills the room. “Thank you for giving me a piece of her back.”