Chapter 38
Today’s my annual gynecological exam. I didn’t tell Chase about it because this morning was perfect. The distraction I needed, but now that I’m at the doctor’s office, the fear is creeping back in.
“You know the drill—undress and put the gown on, open in the front. She’ll be in soon,” the nurse says before leaving the small exam room.
I follow the nurse’s instructions, undressing and placing my clothes neatly on the chair before pulling on the pink gown and tying it around me.
My anxiety is notching higher and higher through each movement, though I try to be methodical and disassociate as much as possible.
Everything will be fine. It’s a regular exam. I’ll climb on the scratchy paper, wait for the doctor, let her probe and prod me for about fifteen minutes, and then I will be walking out of here and back to the office. Back to work and not back here through this torture for at least another year.
The paper crunches underneath me when I sit on top of the table.
It’s cool beneath my thighs and the draft from the vents cause goosebumps to rise on my forearms. Wrapping my arms tightly around my midsection, I settle onto the table to wait.
The pictures on the walls cover everything from preventative sex education to transmitted diseases to vaginal dryness.
The stages of pregnancy cover an entire section of the wall.
I read over it all while I wait. Then I check my email because I feel guilty about being out of the office for this visit.
Things aren’t as toxic now that Mark is gone, but taking over as the interim GC has been a stressful adjustment.
Once I run out of things to read, I’m no less stressed and decide to lay back to close my eyes.
I focus on each inhale and exhale to calm my mind.
All the while the paper crinkles under me, getting more uncomfortable by the second.
Eventually, the door opens and the doctor breezes in without a care in the world. “Hi, Gabby. Sorry to keep you waiting. I had a call from the hospital I needed to take.”
“No worries,” I assure her, though all I feel are worries.
“How have you been feeling? Any changes or anything we need to discuss?”
“Nope, all good. Just a routine checkup,” I say, hopefully.
“Alright, great.” She pulls the stirrups out of the table and positions them for my legs.
“Feet in and scoot all the way down the table.” I do as she instructed and maneuver my butt to the edge of the table after putting my feet in the stirrups.
The invasiveness of this position always makes me uncomfortable.
Here I am spread open and exposed for a woman I don’t know outside of these four walls—thank god for that, to be honest—while she pokes around to make sure everything looks good.
I mean, who came up with this? It’s a pain in the ass being a woman.
“How’s work?” she asks, trying to make small talk like she isn’t about to jab me with the speculum and crank it open.
“It’s good.” I jolt when she places two jelly covered fingers into my vagina.
“Sorry, cold and some pressure.” She manipulates her fingers around my cervix and places her other hand on top to feel around.
“The team is doing really well this season, so we’re looking for a deep playoff run. Fingers crossed,” I say, trying to distract myself from what she’s doing.
“That’s great. We haven’t been to many games this year, but I should get the family out there.”
“You should.” I sigh when she removes her fingers.
“Everything feels great. Let’s just get the pap smear done.
” She places the speculum at my entrance.
“Slight pinch, I’m sorry.” I tense up. “Relax,” she says like that helps.
I feel the swab as she collects a sample.
It’s over quickly, but no more enjoyable.
She rolls back on her stool and puts down the objects by the sink, taking her gloves off and beginning to wash her hands.
“You can take your feet down and sit back now. It all looks good.”
“Good.” I begin untying the gown knowing the breast exam is next. My heart starts racing in anticipation.
Everything’s fine.
It’s fine.
“Have you noticed any changes in your breasts since the last time?” She comes to my left side and warms her hands together before touching me.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t really trust myself,” I admit. Chase has been playing with my breasts for a while and hasn’t said anything, so I’m taking that as good enough.
She palpates my left breast until she’s satisfied that she’s inspected the entire thing. I’m relieved she doesn’t find anything since it was the one I found a lump in before. One down. One to go.
When she begins inspecting my right breast, it’s tender and I feel slight pain as she passes over the top. Her eyebrows furrow and my heart stops.
No.
“You haven’t noticed anything on this side?” It’s not accusing, more curious, but it sets me on edge. I choke on my saliva as I try to swallow and respond at the same time.
“No,” my voice trembles. She hums but doesn’t say anything else as she continues to conduct the breast exam. The underside doesn’t seem to give her any pause, but she keeps coming back to the side of my breast and along the top.
“It feels like there may be something there, so I want to get you in for a mammogram just to be sure.” She removes her hands and covers my breast with the gown.
I immediately pull it tight and close my eyes.
“I’m not saying it’s anything. It could just be dense breast tissue, but we want to be sure. ”
She pats my leg in reassurance.
Tears leak out from behind my closed eyelids.
My heart stutters.
My breathing slows.
This can’t be happening.
I’m having an out of body experience.
She gives me a minute before she keeps talking. Explaining that they will schedule it on my way out. All the things I’ve been through before.
What is this nightmare?
“Gabby, it will be okay. We are just doing this as a precaution.” She squeezes my shoulder when I sit up. I open my eyes and meet the compassion in hers. I appreciate what she’s trying to do, but it doesn’t help. I’ve already gone to that dark place again.
Numbness is my friend right now.
I need to get out of this office.
I need to do it quickly, quietly, and without breaking down.
I can break down when I get to my car.
No, when I get home.
Mentally, I check out and go through the motions.
Rising from the exam table.
The paper tears when I slide off.
Removing the gown. Tossing it in the bin.
Pulling on my underwear.
Fastening my bra behind my back.
My eyes unseeing as I reach for my clothes.
Pants first. One foot, then the other. Lift over my thighs and secure them around my midsection. I loved these pants when I got dressed this morning. Now I wonder if I will ever look at them the same.
The blouse on the chair is next. Over my head. Arms through. Lowering it over my chest and tucking it into the pants.
Slipping on my heels.
Shoulders back. Deep breath. Wipe the eyes. No tears.
Dressed. Check.
Pick up your bag and get to the checkout desk. Let’s go.
One foot in front of the other. Plaster your smile on. Fake it. Pretend everything is okay.
“Hi, she said I needed to stop here on the way out to schedule the mammogram.”
Good job, you did it. Step one, check.
“What’s the name?” the receptionist asks with a smile.
“Oh, right, sorry.” I chuckle, “Gabrielle Pierson.” She pulls out the paperwork the nurse must have already dropped off while I was dressing. The codes are written on the top. Diagnostic Mammogram. Ultrasound as needed.
Fuck, I could have gone without seeing that. Clearing my throat, I wait as she picks up the desk phone and dials a number. I tune her out, unable to stomach the words for fear of falling apart while making the arrangements.
“Do you have a preference on morning or afternoon?”
“Um, no. Whenever they have available is fine.”
“Can you do next week?”
“Sure, that will be fine.” The team is on the road next week so there shouldn’t be much going on at the office, but I pull up my work calendar anyway.
“How’s 8 a.m. Thursday?”
“That’s fine,” I say and log it into my calendar as a doctor’s appointment. She finishes up scheduling and passes me the papers explaining what to do after hanging up the phone.
Thanking her, I tuck the papers into my purse and make my way out of the office.
Scheduled. Check. Get out of this building. Get to the car. I remind myself of every single step as I go. I can do this. Don’t fall apart until you’re alone.
Elevator down. Thank god it’s empty.
Down the hall. Out the sliding doors. Five-hundred paces to the car. I can see the car. Almost there, Gabby, almost there.
I fumble with the keys in my purse, trying to get them out and the car unlocked before I reach it. My walls are crumbling. Ripping the door open, I fall into the driver’s seat and fling my bag into the passenger seat beside me. The door falls closed behind me right as a sob chokes out.
I cover my mouth with my hand. I need to keep this at bay until I’m home. The last thing I need is to wreck.
“You good?” Ivory’s question pulls me out of my wandering thoughts about this afternoon’s doctor’s appointment. The sounds of the stadium infiltrate my system as the announcer introduces the teams. “You seem quiet today.”
No, I didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity and rage about how unfair life is in peace.
Taylor pipes up from beside me, “I’ve been wondering the same thing.
She’s been weird since she came home this afternoon.
” When I got home from my doctor’s appointment, she was waiting in my kitchen with a million questions about where I’d been.
I had to dodge by saying I was up early for a workout class and then getting some work done at my favorite coffee shop.
I don’t want her or Ivory to know about my appointment until I can get a handle of what’s going on myself.
“I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you or I would’ve been home sooner. It’s a busy time right now,” I lie as best as possible. But I’m a terrible liar and my friends know it. Thankfully, the announcer interrupts.
“Now, get on your feet for your Music City Troubadours! Your starting catcher, Ryan Millerrrrr,” he calls as Miller climbs the stairs from the dugout in his gear, lifting his catcher’s mask above his head to acknowledge the crowd.
“Let’s go, Mills!” I scream above the crowd.
He’s the only one who knew about my appointment.
He texted me earlier to ask how it went, and I told him it was fine.
He’ll be hurt when he finds out I lied, but I’m not ready to talk about it.
The fear paralysis is making everything shut down. All rational sense out the window.
“Second baseman, number ten, Preston ‘Fielder’ Fields.” Preston runs up the stairs and points back at Ivory who is screaming at the top of her lungs like she always does. I get lost in the noise, clapping along until the announcer gets to Chase.
“And you know him as The Chaser, shortstop, number three, Chase Bennett.”
My pulse quickens and my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest as he runs onto the field and takes his position for the anthem. Latching onto him to bring me out of the darkness, I smile at seeing him in his uniform, the same jersey I wore this morning.
Today’s singer takes the field, and we turn our attention to the flags over the outfield for the national anthem.
When she’s finished, the camera pans to all the players as they start warming up for the first inning.
The camera zooms in on Chase as he takes his jersey into his mouth and winks at the camera.
At me. I can’t help the gasp that leaves my mouth and the butterflies that take flight.
“OH MY GOD,” Taylor fans herself beside me. My eyes widen in horror at being caught.
“That is so hot,” Ivory agrees
“Shut up,” I hiss, because despite basically telling him this morning I was ready to stop hiding our relationship, I can’t stop the intrusive thoughts that appear out of thin air when I look around and see every other girl in the stands also fanning themselves at Chase.
Young girls. Pretty girls. Girls who wouldn’t demand secrecy and throw a fit about even her closest friends knowing they were sleeping together.
I thought I’d gotten past this, but today’s news is attacking my brain and making it hard to think clearly.
Maybe this is a sign. He deserves someone who would proudly shout about their relationship with him.
He also deserves someone who wasn’t wondering every year if this would be the year she’s diagnosed with cancer.