Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Kincaid
“You got that?” I glanced over at my mom.
Her eyes twinkled as she replied, “Of course I’ve got it.”
Her hand was curled around her cane, and it twisted my heart to see her using one. “Now, come on. Catch up, Kincaid,” she teased.
A few minutes later, we were situated in an exam room at the doctor’s office, and the friendly med assistant was smiling at my mom, who made light of absolutely everything when it came to her health.
My heart gave another twist when I looked over at her. The thing was, she was at peace. And yet, I constantly fended off worry on her behalf. She was all I had when it came to family for me. It had always been just me and her against the world.
It wasn’t as if life with my mom had been perfect. There was no such thing. But there’d never been a moment where I doubted her love, and never a time when she didn’t make the best of whatever the situation at hand offered us.
I was old enough now to know she had kept us going on a threadbare budget.
She was a really good cook and made the best of what we had.
To this day, one of my favorite comfort meals was whatever pasta she picked up at what I now knew was a food bank, tossed with nothing more than butter, chicken or beef, and whatever seasonings she had in the cabinet.
“How’s your pain level?” Heidi, the med assistant, was asking.
My mom tilted her head to the side, lightly tapping her fingertips on one knee. “Well, I’d like to lie and tell you it’s fine.” She lifted one shoulder in barely a shrug. “I live with pain, but I hate pain medication. It makes my brain fuzzy.”
Heidi nodded, her eyes flicking to mine briefly. “How about you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?”
My mom rolled her eyes. “Heidi, get real with me.”
Heidi smiled slightly, but her brow furrowed, and worry flickered in her eyes. “I know you’re going to tell me you just live with it, but I’d like to know how bad it feels for you. Quality of life is important.”
My mother’s sigh filtered out. “Well, a ten is if I’m in the emergency room and something truly horrible has happened, say a bone is sticking out of my leg.”
Heidi’s eyes widened slightly while I snorted. “My mom definitely tries not to exaggerate,” I offered dryly.
“So I’m going to go with…” My mother paused, tapping her fingers on the handle of her cane now. “Six or seven. Average.”
“Mom,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
“Oh, my son would like me to never be in pain,” she said with a slight smile and a nod.
“And, that’s what we’d all like,” Heidi offered. “I see from your chart that you got all of your records from your last doctor sent over to us,” she added.
My mom thumbed toward me. “He did. He’s a good boy.”
Heidi’s brows hitched up. “Oh, well, that’s nice.”
“My son’s not a standard man. He takes care of records, notes, appointments, and the like,” my mom piped up.
I nodded. “She taught me how to do that. I do understand, in our world, that might not be the norm.”
“Well, all credit to you, Claudia,” Heidi offered with a brow waggle.
I chuckled. “That’s where it should go.”
“Back to your pain, you’ve pretty much tried everything we could offer from my review of your chart,” Heidi said. “I’m sure you know most pain medications aren’t good to use long-term. There are a few things we could do with physical therapy. Would you like to try that?”
“Please. It does help,” my mother said.
“All right. I’ll set up that referral.” Heidi’s gaze arced toward me. “I understand your son is a hotshot firefighter. So what’s your plan for transportation when he’s not available?”
“I’ll figure it out. I’m very good at making friends.” My mom’s tone was firm and confident. She was the kind of person who made friends everywhere she went and still stayed in touch with people she’d met on trips.
Heidi laughed softly. “I’m sure you are.
We’ll get that referral set up. It usually takes a week or two after we make the referral before someone will call you to schedule.
It’ll come from one of the numbers for Willow Brook Hospital.
If you have unknown callers silenced, maybe just put in their main number.
That should make sure it comes through. Or you can always just wait for the message and call back. ”
“I can handle that,” my mom said.
“No doubt,” Heidi said, her gaze sobering for a beat. “So, Dr. Charlie’s going to come in. She’ll review everything. Thanks for getting your bloodwork taken care of ahead of time.”
“Always. I don’t love needles, but I’m used to them,” my mom said with a dismissive wave.
“Anything else we should know about?” Heidi prompted.
“I’m doing as well as could be expected,” my mother said, her chin lifting slightly.
“Fair enough.”
After a moment, there was a light knock at the door while the med assistant was entering a few things into the laptop. “Here she is,” Heidi said, gesturing toward the woman who entered. “Dr. Charlie.”
My mom smiled up at her. “Hello, hello.” She thrust a hand out.
Dr. Charlie and I had met at my mom’s first appointment a few weeks ago. So far, I liked her. The doctor smiled, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “And, how are we today, Claudia?” Dr. Charlie asked.
“We are well, and you?”
“Same. I would say, after reviewing everything, things look copacetic.”
“Ooh, I love that word,” my mom enthused.
“Do you now?” the doctor teased lightly.
“It’s a good word.” My mom nodded firmly.
“We’re going to make a referral for physical therapy to hopefully help with her pain. She doesn’t like any of the pain medication options,” Heidi chimed in.
Dr. Charlie cocked her head to the side, studying my mom before nodding. “Understood. Do you want something for those bad days?”
My mom shook her head. “No, thank you. If it’s that bad, then I probably need more than pain medication. I just don’t like how they make me feel all fuzzy and loopy.”
“You’re not the only one who says that. All right. So we’ll make that referral for physical therapy.” Dr. Charlie’s gaze slid to mine. “Any questions? Concerns?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is there anything I need to be monitoring more?” I asked. I felt more than saw my mother roll her eyes. She gave off a vibe when she did that, and it was strong.
“I don’t think so. Your mother has her Lupus well monitored. I’m glad you’re here to support her,” Dr. Charlie replied.
“Of course you’re glad he’s here,” my mom said. “He takes good care of me, but I take good care of him too.”
“I’ve no doubt about that,” Dr. Charlie said with a warm smile.
After we left, the car was quiet for a few minutes as I drove before my mom spoke. “You know this isn’t terminal, Kincaid.”
My chest felt tight, and I had to take a slow breath to help loosen it enough to speak. “I know. But you’re not going to live forever, Mom.”
“I know,” she exclaimed. “But I’m also not going anywhere anytime soon, and no one lives forever. I’m only fifty-five, and Dr. Charlie agrees with my last doctor. I should have an average life expectancy.”
I let out a sharp breath. “I just hate seeing you in pain, Mom.”
She fell quiet for a few beats. “I know you do.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“In the meantime, stop treating me like I’m an invalid. I just have a cane,” she ordered.
I released her hand, shaking my head as a laugh sputtered out. “I will endeavor not to treat you like an invalid.”
“Oh, good vocabulary,” she teased.
My mind spun back to when I was a little boy, when she used to help me with my homework. She became an English teacher after she left the Air Force, and she had high standards.
“So, speaking of me not living forever…” she began before a loaded pause. “When are you going to have me a grandchild?”
This time, my laugh was a startled choke. “Jesus, Mom. Give me some time.”
“Well, chop, chop.” She let out a little laugh. “Obviously, I’m teasing. It’s fine if you don’t want to have children. That said, I would hope you would be open to some kind of relationship.”
Tori instantly strolled into my thoughts.
In all honesty, she was the first woman I’d ever met where I thought maybe, maybe, I might want more than something superficial.
And yet, the baggage around relationships was heavy for me.
Largely thanks to the father I’d never met.
He was a big part of the reason, or at least it felt like to me, that my mom had wanted to come back to Alaska.
She insisted that wasn’t the driving force for her, but I wasn’t so sure.
“If it ever feels right,” I said slowly, “I might consider a relationship.”
“Oh, my God. That is ridiculously vague,” my mother pointed out.
“Says the woman who went through life insisting she didn’t need anyone,” I countered.
“Well, I didn’t, and you don’t either. Not like that. It’s more than that. We all need each other, but it doesn’t have to be romance.” She paused. “Kincaid, you’re a good man, and I want the best for you.”
“I know, Mom. I know.” I took a slow breath. “We’ll see.”