Quinn 16.
“Walk me through it one more time, Doc.”
The doctor offers me a patient smile, grabs the chair near my hospital bed that Polk vacated a half hour ago. He and Joe are in the hallway waiting for me to yell for them to come back in. I’m surprised and glad that Polk called my ex-husband. Joe was needed to make decisions while I was kind of knocked out from the concussion I sustained stupidly trying to cushion a grown man’s fall. I make a mental note to ask Polk as soon as I can about Ford. I hope he’s ok, I don’t think he can be fairing worse than me right now, at any rate.
“I have set up an appointment with Dr. Orlosky, he is an excellent neurologist at University of Cincinnati.”
“But you just examined me.”
Dr. Meditich nods. “I did. And that examination confirmed what I already suspected. Based on your CT scan, MRI, blood work, physical exam, and information from your ex-husband and…” I chuckle lightly when he trails off, unsure what to call Polk, “your man—”
I laugh hard at his obvious discomfort. “He actually said that?”
“Growled would be a more accurate description.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“Quinn, I know a diagnosis like this sounds scary, terrifying even, but I do believe we have caught this early. With medication and therapy, this is manageable.”
I swallow hard, my head spinning, figuratively, and my stomach churning. “Multiple Sclerosis,” I say it out loud and wanna cry, but I hold back.
“Dr. Orlosky will do his own examination and run additional testing. I spoke with him earlier, he’s reviewed your scans, and the brain lesions alone are a pretty good indication, but the intermittent facial paralysis, nystagmus, headaches, stomach pain—”
“Nystagmus?”
“Sorry,” he appears genuinely contrite, “my wife yells at me all the time for speaking doctor. Nystagmus is eye movement up and down, back and forth, that is an involuntary action usually caused by nerve damage. Yours is not severe and you probably haven’t noticed anything.”
“I’m 36. I have 3 young kids. Work. I just got a new man,” I try to joke but it falls flat, my voice quivering with emotion.
“Quinn.” Dr. Meditich leans forward, placing his hand over mine. His skin is warm, his hand steady. “You are going to be alright. Orlosky is one of the best in the area. He’ll get you situated. And you can keep chasing after your kids, dating your new man, continue working. And of course, you’ll keep creeping closer to 40.”
I glare with pursed lips. “That was mean.”
“Do you want me to get the two men in the hallway? I can explain it to them—”
“No. No, I’ll tell them.” I will do nothing of the sort, not until I have this figured out and a plan in place.
“Ok. I’m gonna get your discharge papers signed, and the nurse will be in soon to get you out of here. Your appointment information will be listed. Avoid caffeine and alcohol, rest, and take Tylenol for any headaches.”
“Thank you.” He nods, opens the door and walks out. He’s barely cleared the doorway before Polk is pushing his way in and rushing to my side.
“Quinn. What’s going on? Is everything ok? What did they find?” I don’t want to lie to him, but I can’t…not yet.
“Just going over concussion protocol. I should be going home soon.” He doesn’t look like he believes me, so before he can question, I ask, “How’s Ford? What caused the seizure?”
Polk sighs, sitting down in the chair, his hand holding mine tightly. “He has an arachnoid cyst. It’s pushing on the parts of his brain that affect personality and mood. He’s scheduled for day after tomorrow to have it drained since it’s causing seizures now.”
“Seizures? Like plural? More than one?”
“He’s had several since he was admitted. They told Madison that he’s probably had it for years, but it’s growing. Surgeon said he believes they can drain it completely, but they won’t know until they get in there. Worst case, they insert shunts to drain into his abdomen.”
“Is he awake?”
“In and out.”
“I want to see him.” Polk grits his teeth, his eyes drifting over my shoulder for a moment.
“Fine.”
I tug on his hand, and he obliges, moving close enough for me to kiss his cheek. “It’s cute you think you can control me.”
“Quinn, I have been scared out of my mind for the last 24 hours. They’ve run all kinds of tests on you, and no one would talk to me about anything! Even Joe was only given limited information.” He runs his hand over the top of his head roughly, then presses his forehead gently to mine. “I don’t want to go through that again.” My heart nearly stops beating at his words. How can we start something when I might not be functional for too much longer? He isn’t my nurse and never will be. I refuse to be a burden on him or anyone else.
“Perhaps…” I begin, forcing myself to breathe evenly. I sit back in the bed, putting space between us. “Maybe it would be best if we…take a break. There’s a lot going on and—”
“No.” He stands abruptly, dropping my hand to cage me in with his hands fisted on either side of my head. “You aren’t telling me everything. You have more than a concussion. I’ll let you have your time now, sort through whatever is going on, but I’m here. I’m with you. And ain’t nothing going to change that, not even you.”
“You can’t date me against my will,” I scoff. He smirks and I want to slap him and kiss him.
“Ain’t against your will, baby,” he purrs, dipping down to rub his nose against mine, then down my jaw, neck, nibbling on the thin flesh where my shoulder begins. “I’ve torn you down, piece by piece with the tip of my tongue, your clit throbbing between my teeth, your pussy gushing and begging for more. The touch of my fingers draws your body to the brink of madness, and you offer yourself up in supplication, thrusting your tits into the air, your hands clutching me close, the sound of your moans echoing in my soul.”
“Good Lord.” I squeak in surprise at Joe’s voice. Polk calmly looks over his shoulder at my ex-husband standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I’ve never…we’ve never…Quinn, date him or I might have to.” The tension between Polk and I snaps with Joe’s joke, and I relax back into the bed. That was…that was a lot.
“You ain’t my type.” Polk responds casually.
“You ain’t mine either, but fuck, did that sound hot.” Joe shakes his head, glancing at me. “I guess we’re well and truly done, huh?” I give him a sad smile and nod. “I don’t feel an ounce of jealousy. I’d call that growth. My therapist will be so happy when I tell her.” Joe chuckles as he walks to the other side of the bed. He takes my other hand in his and squeezes. “I love you, Quinn. I’m so fucking happy to see your eyes open. Can we do a quick FaceTime with the boys? I’m gonna pick them up and take them to my place for the night. If you need longer, let me know.”
“I’d like to see my boys.” Joe calls Marco’s phone and stands next to me so we’re both on the screen. My boys are beyond happy to see me and anxious for me to come home so I can cook them dinner. They groan when their father tells them they’re staying with him, bitching about take-out again. My soul settles seeing all three of them.
It's in this moment, them bickering over their favorite meals of mine, that I know I’ll figure this whole MS thing out, I’ll deal with it, like I’ve dealt with everything else thrown my way. I’m not willing to miss a single moment of my boys growing up. I look up at Polk as he jokes with my boys. He glances at me quickly, winking at me with a smirk. He’ll be by my side the whole ride.
I won’t be fighting alone. Never again if Polk and the Congressionals MC have anything to say about it.