Chapter 9 Noa
The familiar scent of latex and antiseptic greeted me as I exited the elevator on the rheumatology wing for my routine check-up.
I hated this place, but after three weeks of sawdust and hammering, my home had become a construction site.
It was almost a relief, a familiarity that hadn’t changed.
Dr. Easton had been a godsend. She was the first person to take me seriously when I was hopping from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was going on with my body.
I used to cry before and after appointments from the frustration of not getting any answers.
One doctor told me it was just anxiety. Another thought it was early-onset arthritis.
I could count on both hands the number of people who looked me dead in the face and said it was all in my head.
But Dr. Easton? She didn’t brush me off.
She listened, ran real tests, and fought to get me answers.
When the results came back, she didn’t just deliver the diagnosis.
No, she helped me build a life around my new normal.
“Good morning, Miss Green.” The receptionist greeted us as I rolled through the double doors. Teagan walked beside me, a little too chipper for someone taking their sister to the doctor, if you asked me.
“Good morning,” I replied.
“Is that my favorite patient?” one nurse sang out.
“Sure is.” I waved at the short, shapely nurse. I couldn’t remember her name. It was either Kelly or Kendra, but I knew her face and the gentle way she held my wrist during blood draws.
“Hey, girl!” Teagan greeted her like she was our long-lost cousin. “Y’all got my sister back here again, huh? Upset or what?”
“You know we can’t get enough.” The nurse chuckled before zeroing in on me. “Dr. Easton’s running five minutes behind, but you’re still her favorite.”
“Great, thank you,” I replied as I took the clipboard she handed me.
“Favorite? Dr. Easton is basically family now. We have the Christmas card to prove it.” Teagan leaned over, whispering behind her palm.
I rolled my eyes, but a laugh slipped past my lips anyway.
“Make sure they punch your loyalty card.” She looked at me, dead ass serious.
“Don’t make me run you over.”
“On that note, I’ma go sit down.” She grinned and walked over to have a seat while I checked in. I scribbled my current symptoms on the paper and then handed her back the survey.
“Alright, Ms. Bell, you’re all checked in. Someone will call you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I said, already maneuvering my chair toward the waiting area where Teagan slouched in one of the chairs, thumbing through her phone.
I parked next to her and dug through my bag until I found my phone.
I had one new message. I tapped it open, frowning at the unknown number.
Random people didn’t text me. For half a second, I was confused until I read the message. Then it clicked. It was Quade.
He never texted. We mostly communicated through quick phone calls while he was working on the ramp and mapping out things inside. I’d never actually saved his number. Mainly, he just waited until he saw me to give me updates about the door measurements or ask about the paint I wanted.
Unknown:
We’re at your house. I knocked, but nobody answered. We’re finishing up the ramp. Just letting you know.
I started typing a response, feeling a little bad I had forgotten to tell him I’d be gone this morning, but a second text came in before I could finish.
Unknown:
You good? I don’t need to bust the door down do I?
A small smile crept across my lips. I shook my head, thumbs moving.
Me:
Doctor’s appointment. Forgot to tell you. I’m all good. No need to go Incredible Hulk.
Unknown:
You left the house? Progress.
Me:
Just a routine doctor’s appointment. I’ll be at my canvas by noon.
Unknown:
We really got to work on getting you outside for more than just doctors appointments.
I smiled again, bigger this time. I could feel myself blushing.
“What’s that smile about?” Teagan glanced over at me, her eyebrows raised. Before I could answer, a nurse called me from the hallway.
“Noa Green?”
“Saved by the nurse.” I dropped my phone in my purse and rolled over to the nurse. Teagan stood and followed behind me.
“You’re not off the hook. I’ll gladly wait for my answer,” she said under her breath.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I smirked just as the nurse opened the door to the back, gesturing us forward.
“You know the way, Miss Green,” she said.
“Unfortunately,” I replied under my breath, and she chuckled as we made our way to the exam room. Once inside, she took my vitals, asked about any medication changes, and gave Teagan a playful side-eye when she commented on my blood pressure being high from the text message I’d just read.
“Dr. Easton will be in shortly.” The nurse smiled and headed for the door, jotting down a few notes on her pad. The door didn’t get to click shut before Teagan was back to questioning me.
“So… Was that Quade or no-good ass Shawn?”
“Don’t start,” I warned, but I couldn’t even hide the heat coming up my cheeks.
“That look tells me everything I need to know,” she sang. “What did Quade say?”
“Nothing. He just wanted to let me know they were working outside again.”
“That’s it?” She eyed me suspiciously.
“Yep.”
Before she could say anything else, there was a soft knock at the door to let us know Dr. Easton was entering.
“Noa! My favorite complicated case,” she teased gently as I took her in. She wore her usual navy-blue scrubs, a bob, and black-rimmed glasses halfway down her nose.
“Wow. That’s how we starting today, Dr. Easton?”
“You know I only say that because I love you. But seriously, how are we doing?”
I shrugged. How was I doing? That answer changed depending on the minute. Some mornings were hell, afternoons were iffy, and most nights, I didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t getting better, and I wasn’t getting worse. I was just surviving.
“No changes really. I’m still tired, still flaring. Still stuck in this chair.”
“She’s being humble,” Teagan added from the corner. “She hasn’t complained half as much, and her pain’s been measuring at about an eight.”
Dr. Easton nodded, typing something into her tablet. “Your labs are stable, but I can tell you’re overcompensating again. You’ve lost a little more mobility since the last visit?”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. My legs feel like lead some days. I’m doing the stretches, but… it’s frustrating.”
“You’re doing the best you can,” she reassured. “That’s the thing about lupus. It changes the rules mid-game. Doesn’t mean you stop playing.”
I breathed that in.
“What about driving?” I asked softly. “Is that still… off the table?”
“If we can get the inflammation down and maintain consistency with the new meds, adaptive driving is a real option. I’ll refer you for an evaluation. No promises, but it’s not out of the question.”
I nodded. That was more than I expected.
“And walking?” I whispered.
Dr. Easton’s voice softened. “You may not walk full-time again, Noa, but partial mobility is still something we can work toward. Don’t give up on your body.”
Tears burned the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. I didn’t need to cry in front of Teagan today. I didn’t need her worrying more than she already did.
Dr. Easton glanced at Teagan. “She taking care of you?”
Teagan grinned. “Always. I’m trying to get her out of the house more. I keep trying to tell her that being in this chair stops nothing.”
“That’s right, Noa.” Dr. Easton smiled warmly, eyes bouncing from Teagan back to me. “I hope you’re not staying cooped up in the house,” she said gently. “Are you still doing things that bring you joy? Going places, seeing people?”
I hesitated. I could count on one hand how many times I actually left the house in the last year.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I paint. I sell a few pieces online sometimes, but… that’s about it.”
Her brow lifted. “You’re still painting? That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Nothing major. Just commissions, online stuff. I don’t do shows and travel anymore.”
Dr. Easton tilted her head, but she didn’t say anything. She tapped the edge of her tablet and looked back at me.
“My best friend is hosting an art gallery showing next month. It’s part charity auction, part community spotlight, and they’re featuring local black artists. I want you to enter.”
“Enter?”
“Mmhmm.” She smiled. “Submit your work. Be part of it.”
My first instinct was to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat.
“I don’t know, Dr. Easton…” I shook my head, eyes already darting toward the floor.
“I have done nothing like that since before I got sick. I post sometimes, sure, and I’ve sold a few pieces.
But showing up somewhere like…” I trailed off, chest tightening.
I was getting anxiety from just considering. “It’s a lot.”
She didn’t rush to speak. Instead, she sat forward, her voice lower now, closer.
“Noa, I know it’s easier to stay inside.
I do. Your body’s unpredictable, but isolation, especially with a condition like lupus, can do more harm than good.
” She placed a gentle hand over mine. “Getting out, connecting, creating, being seen—that isn’t a luxury.
It’s medicine. It’s a part of your healing, a part of your survival.
I want you to have every tool that helps you keep living, not just existing. ”
“Which is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell her.” Teagan chimed in from the corner like she’d just won a damn bet. “This gallery sounds like the perfect event. She’ll do it.”
I rolled my eyes, but my mouth betrayed me with a slow, reluctant smile. “I’ll think about it,” I corrected. I’d have to make sure they had wheelchair accessibility and figure out what I’d even paint.
“Don’t think too long. Art is therapy, Noa.” Dr. Easton smiled.
“I hear you…”
“Good.” She glanced back at the tablet. “I’m going to tweak your Plaquenil dose slightly, nothing major, just based on your latest labs. Still no prednisone unless we see a further decline.”
I nodded.
“And I want you to try that new compression sleeve we talked about last time to help with the swelling.”
“Okay.”
She printed the new orders and handed them over.
“And I better hear you at least looked up the gallery link. It’ll count as homework.”
“She’s a stubborn one, Dr. Easton.” Teagan chuckled.
“Don’t I know it?” Dr. Easton winked. “See you in four weeks.” She stepped out of the room with a reassuring nod, and a moment later, the nurse returned with a wheelchair tag and discharge papers.
“Y’all are good to go.” The nurse smiled. Teagan stretched, grabbing her bag off the chair.
“I’ll go get the car,” she said, already heading toward the exit.
I wheeled myself slowly behind her, feeling the weight of the morning settle on my shoulders.
When we reached the front, Teagan took off for the car while I waited with the nurse under the awning.
The silence gave space to really think about what Dr. Easton had said.
Attend an art show. She wanted me to get out of the house.
It sounded simple, but it meant I’d have to let people see this version of me.
Quade’s words echoed in my head from the text he sent me earlier.
We gotta work on getting you outside for more than doctors appointments.
It was scary, but a little part of me wanted to try.
Teagan pulled the car around, easing up to the curb under the awning. The nurse stepped forward as I set my brakes. She held the passenger door open while I reached for the transfer board from my side pouch.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yes.” I nodded as I angled my chair just right, slid the board under my thigh, and planted one palm on the seat of the car, the other gripping my wheel for leverage. I took a deep breath and slid out of my chair. My arms strained, and my muscles trembled slightly, but I made it.
“Whoo!” I blew out as I settled into the passenger seat, exhaling through my teeth. Teagan was already grabbing my chair and folding it down like she’d done a hundred times.
“This damn chair ain’t getting lighter,” she fussed, tossing it in the trunk with a grunt.
“Add it to your résumé.”
“Already have.” She rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. The nurse shut my door, and Teagan pulled away from the curb without another word. My phone buzzed in my lap.
Unknown:
Are you headed back home soon? We’re about to head out.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I didn’t send anything right away. I was too busy trying to stop myself from blushing. The last thing I wanted was for Teagan to make a big deal over me texting Quade.
Me:
OMW
Unknown:
Then I’ll wait.
I read his message again before tucking my phone away and leaning my head against the window. Yeah, I’m ready to go home.