Chapter 50 #2
Dr. Montary’s eyebrows furrow. “If that’s the case you’d have a malpractice lawsuit on your hands.
” She reaches forward as if to comfort me but stops, the years of her treating me making our relationship feel close.
“I’m so sorry, Layla, but good news is if you stop immediately your trial medication from Berlin should hopefully take effect again, though it might be around a month before the side-effects completely wane. ”
Nodding, I wipe away my tears, looking to Kieran. He’s clenching his jaw so tightly I’m surprised his teeth haven’t cracked. “Kieran?” I whisper.
“I’m going to sue him into oblivion.”
The ferocity in his tone has my eyes widening.
Clearing his throat, he runs his fingers through his hair, visibly trying to calm himself. “Can we still run some tests today? More bloodwork to make sure it is the birth control and nothing else underlying?”
She dips her head, already standing to put gloves on. “Yes, I would like to also do—”
“Sorry to cut you off but I had blood drawn recently. I haven’t gotten the results back yet though.”
“Here or at another facility?”
“Here.”
“Let me check if they’re in. What did they test for?”
My laugh is humorless. “Everything under the sun.”
Nodding along, she picks up her reading glasses and leaves them perched on the top of her nose. “Ah yes, I can see.” Dr. Montary cocks her head as she continues to read, the silence in the room palpable.
The anger wafting off Kieran is a living breathing thing. Leaning over, I whisper, “Kieran, it’s okay now. It’s fixable.”
“Shouldn’t have happened in the first place, sunshine.”
“Sorry, excuse me a moment. I’ll be back.”
My frown is deep as Dr. Montary steps out, her short heels clicking along the floor, her pencil skirt swishing.
“What the…? She doesn’t usually leave the room.”
Kieran must see the panic on my face because he leans over, placing a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sure she’s just printing out the blood work.”
I point to the printer on her desk.
Pursing his lips, he offers, “Maybe she ran out of paper?”
Dr. Montary wasn’t out of paper.
Ten minutes later, she steps into the room again, a strained smile on her face as a technician comes in behind her wheeling a portable ultrasound.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Layla.” Taking a seat in front of me, she’s clinical, talking facts, and I know what that means. I’ve been in enough doctor offices to know the tone she’s using isn’t a good sign.
Clinging to Kieran’s hand for dear life, I move forward in my seat. “Is everything okay?”
Dr. Montary clasps her hands in her lap and I notice how fragile she seems in this moment, older than she was when I met her. I always thought she was ageless.
“The labs ran everything like you said and along with it, they checked your hormone levels. Unfortunately, they’ve come back to show your AMH levels are low, along with estradiol, and a high level of FSH.”
“What does that mean?” Kieran asks before I can, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
“Layla, I want to do a transvaginal ultrasound today if that’s okay?”
“To check what?” I ask, finally finding my voice.
She licks her lips. “With bloodwork like yours, it indicates that your ovaries might not be…functioning as they should. I’d like to do the ultrasound to see what’s going on.”
Blinking furiously, I lean back as if I was struck. “M-my ovaries?”
“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly.
And suddenly, as good as Kieran’s presence is, as comforting and reassuring, all I want is my mom to wrap her arm around me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
I want to stop time, I want all the voices to fade, I want to go back to thirty minutes ago when I just thought it was a lupus flare-up.
I don’t want to be gently led to the bed, I don’t want Kieran’s gentle touches and soothing words, I don’t want to have to give verbal and written consent to an internal examination of my ovaries.
I don’t want to be clinging to Kieran’s hand for support, him kissing my forehead and telling me I’m doing a good job, as the wand is inserted so high it’s painful.
I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to be getting this test.
And I don’t want to hear what she has to say next. Because nothing and no one can comfort me when I see the look in Dr. Montary’s eyes.
Kieran sees it too.
“Please just say it.”
Even to my own ears, I’m shocked at how…broken I sound.
Dead inside.
She removes the wand, taking off her gloves, and with one nod, the technician that was assisting her leaves. She motions for me to sit up but I’m afraid if I do I’ll pass out.
“Please,” I beg. “Just spit it out.”
She lays her hand on my arm, her smile so sad it makes me steel my heart, but nothing could have prepared me.
“Layla, I’m so sorry. There’s tremendous scarring on your ovaries. It looks as if there’s also structural damage and your antral follicle count is…nonexistent.”
“What does that mean?” Kieran demands.
Dr. Montary looks from Kieran to me as she rips out my heart. “Layla I’m sorry but the damage to your ovaries…with no active follicles…your ovaries are not functioning as they should.”
“Say it,” I beg through a gasp.
I need to hear her say it.
“I’m sorry Layla but your tests are showing no remaining ovarian activity. With these results, it would be nearly impossible to conceive naturally.”
My lip is the first to wobble.
Then my hand.
And then my heart.
It teeters over a wall, falling to its death.
The sound that leaves my mouth isn’t human, it’s animalistic.
It’s the sound of my dreams being torn from me.
It’s the sound of the future Kieran and I spoke of vanishing.
It is the sound of me dying.
And it won’t stop.
Dr. Montary says something but I can’t hear anything past the ringing in my ears, nor past my heart beating erratically as it tries to remain in this world after being torn to shreds.
She leaves the room and suddenly through my watery haze I spot Kieran with tears in his eyes. His lips are moving but I can’t hear anything. I can’t feel anything over the utter devastation slamming into my body.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Layla.”
The horror in his voice, the future and hope I just ripped from his hands, is clear.
I can never have children.
“I just got better,” I say, gasping through my sobs. “I just got better! I just started hoping!” I’m all but screaming now. “I just started hoping for a family!”
“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“No,” I heave. “No, no, no!” I’m hysterical, I know I am, but I can’t stop. It hurts so much.
“Sunshine…”
“Make it stop, Kieran,” I beg through my tears. “Make it stop, please. Please make it stop.”
But I know I’m begging for something that he can’t fix.
No one can fix me.
I’m broken.