7. Lyra
Taran did end up delivering some work yesterday, the day after we texted. We got to say a quick hello while he spoiled Brody with pets and treats.
I had to rush back inside for a meeting, but just briefly seeing him was enough to make my heart hum. It was truly ridiculous. I hate someone having this much of an effect on me. It makes me feel powerless and I”ve had enough of that for two lifetimes. I”m mature enough to not lie to myself, I”m well aware that I”m very attracted to him. It”s the fact that I”m so attracted to him without really knowing him that scares me. Is it a rebound? For now, I need to push it all aside. Taran and I have plenty of getting to know each other to do, and nothing is going further until at least the divorce is finalized.
I”ve had to cut my workday short today to finally put aside my fear, and see my doctor to assess what”s going on with my jaw. To say I’ve been dreading this appointment is a huge understatement. My jaw is starting to become too uncomfortable to be ignored anymore though, I can feel the bones creaking and scraping. My house is about an hour outside of Philly, and that”s where my endocrinologist is located. Dr. Yamada has been seeing me for the past ten years, ever since my original endocrinologist Dr. Baldani retired. Dr. Baldani was the one who saw me from the very beginning at the Children”s Hospital of Philadelphia. For 28 years I”ve been coming into the city for treatment and check ups, ever since I was diagnosed with the genetic disorder Turner Syndrome at age 8. I”ll never forget that day. When I was born, the doctors discovered a whole host of issues. I was cross-eyed, almost entirely deaf because my ears were not able to drain fluid, and had a cleft palate.
After several rounds of surgeries by the time I was 2, most everything was looking normal. My hearing was pretty well restored, my eyes still get slightly lazy when I”m super tired but they”re not crossed anymore, and all growing up I had palate expansions and braces for my mouth to correct the cleft palate. When I was 8 though, my parents started to get worried. I wasn”t growing much, and my little brother was starting to tower over me. We went to all kinds of doctors and specialists.
Finally, we ended up at CHOP, where Dr. Baldani took one look at my left hand and diagnosed me. The fourth finger on my left hand is nearly as short as my pinky, and there is no knuckle. It”s not something that ever registered before, probably because it became more pronounced as I grew, but he saw it right away. It”s a telltale sign of Turner Syndrome. Every issue I had been born with was connected to this genetic disorder. Only women are affected, and it happens when something goes wrong with one of the two X chromosomes we have.
I manage to find parking fairly close to Dr. Yamada”s practice, though driving in Philly still scares me after all these years of coming here. It”s not for the faint of heart. Sometimes I take the train if I can. I walk the short distance to his office building and head up to the 5th floor to check in with the receptionist.
“How are you, Denise?”
“Lyra! I”m well, thanks. How are you? It”s good to see you,” she says warmly.
I”ve had my marriage crumble around me since I was last here, thanks so much for asking. No need to be a downer, though. “I’ve been good!” I say with as much genuine enthusiasm as I can.
“Glad to hear it. Dr. Yamada will be right with you, I”ll let him know you”re here.”
“Thanks.”
I get lost in thoughts of the many trips here to Philly for my treatments while I wait. Every three months for over a decade my parents took me to CHOP. At first they both came. Then after their divorce, it became a day with my dad. I had to get measured, all sorts of blood tests and ultrasounds, bone scans, EKGs, you name it. I had a favorite phlebotomist who I will remember forever named Lakisha. She never missed a vein, smelled wonderfully like peppermint instead of hospital, and always made me laugh. I was put into an innovative study where I received growth hormone treatment for my height in daily injections. My parents, my big sister, and I all learned how to give the injections properly at home. Reviewing the growth chart was always the highlight of the trip. The growth hormone worked. Instead of topping out at 4”6” like it was projected, I ended up reaching a very respectable 5”. By the end of the day though, especially in the beginning, I was ready to cry from all of the poking and prodding. Only the promise of a milkshake and BLT at the Medport Diner on the way home kept me from losing it. I”m still a very food motivated little gremlin to this day.
I”m about to pull out my e-reader, which I obviously take everywhere, when Dr. Yamada comes out and asks me to head on back with him. We head to his office, and I plop down in one of the seats in front of his desk while he goes to sit behind it. He has floor to ceiling windows behind him, and I can see CHOP in the distance.
“How have you been, Lyra? Any changes since I saw you last?”
“Nope! Everything is status quo. No new complaints aside from my jaw. My numbers at my last physical were all good as well, thankfully.”
“Yes, I saw when your PCP sent your latest labs over. That”s wonderful. No new reactions to the birth control pills or changes to your cycle?”
It”s a good thing I”ve grown comfortable with him over the past few years, even though it should not be an uncomfortable conversation. He and my gyno have had to work hand in hand to make sure my hormone levels are good and are generating a cycle for me.
“No changes there, either. Not going to lie though, I can”t wait for the day I can stop all of it.”
He chuckles because he”s used to my nonsense by now.
“You”ve been through a lot, Lyra, but you”re at the maintenance stage now of your hormone therapy. The worst of it is long behind you, it”s just the pills at this point to give you a cycle. Now we need to talk about your jaw, though. You were one of the first girls in the study using growth hormone, so we didn”t know what the effects would be. When you were young, all of the charts show you grew like a puppy. Your hands and feet grew more quickly than the rest of you until you grew into them. Just like your hands and feet grew faster, one side of your jaw grew more quickly than the other. We told you it was a possibility, and it looks like it happened. Why didn”t you address this when we first became aware of it over a decade ago, once you stopped growing? Now you”re in pain because the joints are reacting to the uneven bone structure.”
I feel my hackles rise, but I force them down. He”s being kind about it, even though his reprimand has me wanting to get defensive.
“It just wasn”t a good time back then, and then I forgot about it until it started to become really uncomfortable. Plus I was in between coming off of my dad”s insurance and onto my own, worse policy back then. It”s a poor excuse, but there you go.”
He sighs. “I get it. You may still have trouble getting it covered, but we will work that out with the specialist in New York state. I”m giving you that referral for Dr. Oren that I mentioned before, who is one of the best jaw specialists on the East Coast. He”s going to take measurements, x-rays, the works and then send them to me so I can add them to your study file. Now let”s take a quick look at your jaw. Follow me down the hall please.”
He leads me to an exam room where he first scrubs his hands, before putting on his gloves. The exam goes on like usual as he listens to my lungs, looks inside my mouth, checks for any swollen glands in my neck, and all of the other lovely basics. He measures my jaw so that he can compare notes with Dr. Oren when I see him. Once I was too old to go to CHOP, endocrinology still remained the point specialty of my care when it came to anything related to my genetic disorder. That was the department that put me in the study and ran it at the hospital, and it carried over. I see my primary care physician and other doctors like normal, but I still check everything in with Dr. Yamada if it has anything to do with the study treatments. Since the current situation with my jaw is because of the growth hormone, he needs to see me first before Dr. Oren decides next steps. He warns me that surgery is likely with screws put in place to correct the imbalance. I ask jokingly if my jaw will be bionic, since the news makes me too jittery to do anything but make light of it. When everything is done, he walks me out to the reception area and shakes my hand.
“I know it”s a lot to have to deal with this right now, Lyra, but you”ll get through it like everything else. It”s a wonder that you were born with Turner Syndrome and survived, let alone thrived the way you have. This is why you women in the study were called the Miracle Women, and you have always been one of the biggest successes beyond even the wildest expectations when it began. Whatever needs to be done to your jaw will be something you can handle.”
My throat tightens, because while his words are meant to reassure, they feel like a weight. I”ve been told this nearly my whole life, the stats have been drilled into my head. 1 in about 200 fetuses have it, which is already not that many. Only 1-3% of those fetuses with Turner Syndrome are even born alive, let alone able to become a fully functioning, relatively healthy adult. I really am incredibly grateful that I”m alive and ok. I”ve never felt like much of a miracle, though. I”ve always felt different, and other. Not only that, but it put my family through a lot. They never were anything but supportive about it, but it took so much time, money, and effort to get me the treatment I needed. I couldn”t help but feel like a burden. I”ve never even met another girl that has Turner Syndrome except one, when we both had to go in front of a board for insurance coverage. Her case was much worse than mine. It all depends on how the chromosomes fall. Sometimes one X chromosome is missing entirely, sometimes it”s malformed in some way, and sometimes it ends up on the wrong side with the other X chromosome.
Now that I”m older and have embraced being different, it”s great. I let in the few people who are able to take me as I am, which takes a while. I try extremely hard to not let people see that I”m different, and keep up my mask until I”m comfortable enough to show that vulnerability. The people who end up not being able to handle my physical differences and general quirks, and there have been many, can go fuck right off and I don”t feel guilty about it. As a kid trying desperately to fit in and make friends though, it was awful. The bullying was out of control. I was called every version of the word ”freak,” shoved into lockers, made fun of incessantly about being so short, beaten up, given the cold shoulder, spit balls shot into my hair, you name it. I was scrappy right back, though. I threw some punches to defend myself, and took down a girl who kept pushing me. It got me in trouble, too. Now I simply stay away from people as much as I can, because while schoolyard scraps are bad, it is unfortunately even more frowned upon to punch assholes in polite adult society. I”ve been working to not have such a short fuse. There is a lot to unlearn and unpack, since I had to fight like hell all growing up. My family always jokes that being such a fighter is what got me through everything, but it also made me a stubborn pain in the ass.
I settle up with Denise and say goodbye to her before I make the drive home. At least I don”t have to cook tonight since I have leftovers from the pasta I made last night. I don”t know how to cook for just one person, but leftovers are the best anyway. I”m lost in the audiobook I”ve got playing through the bluetooth when a call comes through from my sister Jeanette.
“Helloooo,” I singsong like I always do when she calls.
“Figured I would check in real quick with how the appointment went while I head out to see some clients,” she says by way of greeting.
“Nothing earth shattering. It looks like my jaw is officially screwed, though. Probably literally, it might need surgery with screws to put it back together right. I have to go see that specialist Dr. Oren up in New York state to figure out the next steps.”
“Good lord. Would it have been better if you had done it 10 years ago?”
“No idea. I stopped growing at 22, so probably not. The joints are just starting to protest now, it seems.”
“Well, keep me posted. I”m almost to my client, but what else is going on?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you. There”s a guy I”ve been talking to. I”m not ready for anything romantic, especially not until the divorce is final, but he seems pretty great.”
“What”s his name, how did you meet, and why am I just hearing about this now??”
“Taran, he”s a UPS driver that delivers to my house, and because it”s extremely new and scary.”
“I need more details but not when I”m in a rush. This needs my undivided attention. I think scary is good though, don”t let it stop you from figuring out if it could be something. Text me later.”
“Will do. Love you, talk to you soon.”
“Love you, too.” I can feel her worry through the phone as we hang up.
My sister was basically my other mother growing up. She”s 11 years older and did everything with me. I was her shadow. She has three incredible, nearly grown children of her own now, but the joke is that I was her first child. It was she who took me shopping for my first bra at 14, even though I didn”t really need one until I went on estrogen injections at age 17 to see if I would develop at all. She taught me how to shave, how to handle my period once I started having it no thanks to the hormones, and was always generally my sounding board about everything. When she had to move away to Texas because of my brother-in-law”s work, I was beyond devastated. I used to be at her house for dinner, babysitting, you name it multiple times a week. Now I see her once or twice a year. I push the pangs of missing her and her family aside, though. This is what happens in adulthood, people spread out and live their lives. It sucks though. I fly to their house every year, usually around Christmas if possible, and I get tearful every damn time I leave. My life and work are here though, and there”s no telling if my brother-in-law will be transferred somewhere else if I were to move to be near them. Then I would truly be alone.
When I pull into my driveway, it”s almost 8 and I”m exhausted after working until 3 and then heading into the city for my appointment. Getting out of my car, something on my front porch catches my eye. There”s a sticky note attached to a zip top baggie with treats inside.
Hey Firecracker,
I was thinking of you when I had some deliveries in your neighborhood (though no new work for you, so that”s good news). Thought I would just say hi and leave some treats for my favorite pup to win him back, the cheater. Hope to see you soon.
- Taran
After such a long day, to say that the gesture warms my heart is a huge understatement. I”m starting to even like his silly nickname for me against my better judgment. Smiling like an idiot, I go inside and let Brody out before rewarding him with a couple of Taran”s treats. Such a simple thing made my entire day. The fact that he was thinking of me and my dog is making my heart do things I swore I wouldn”t let it do after my divorce. Part of me mistrusts how good he seems.
That”s the old adage, right? If someone is too good to be true, they probably are. Is it just his game or is he genuine? I don”t know how to trust someone or something so seemingly perfect when I don’t even trust myself anymore. With the exception of Gina and my sister, I don”t think I”ve ever had that level of complete and utter trust in anyone, even Derek. I just blithely ignored the signs with him, going against all of my natural instincts because I wanted to have that trust in him so badly.
I shake out of my thoughts. I”ll address my trust issues later, they”re a big jumble for future Lyra to unravel with some needed appointments with my therapist. It”s been a while, but after the divorce it”s time to go back to seeing Dr. Kirkfield. For now, I want to enjoy the gesture as the kindness it seems to be, and shoot him a text.
Brody was really happy about his surprise, and it made my day. Thank you, Taran
A few minutes later, I see his response come through.
I”m glad, and you”re very welcome. Did you have a good day?
Not a bad day, just really long and exhausting. So it was nice to have that smile at the end of it. How was your day?
Good now that I know I made you smile. Same old same old here, work was fine
See, this is what I mean. How is he so charming and perfect?
I’m glad. Thank you again for thinking of us. I better eat and settle in for the night, I”m dead on my feet
Maybe it”s because I”m tired. Maybe it”s because he has me feeling soft. The urge to see him is strong, since I want to figure this man out and get to know him. I make a last minute decision that I hope I don”t regret.
Hey, real quick though. I was planning on going to the farmer”s market and then taking Brody to the dog park tomorrow morning. If you”re not busy, want to come with? Not sure if you”re working
The dots pop up and then disappear. Then do it again. I”m starting to second guess myself. Rationally, I know it”s probably something simple like he”s working or has plans. I”m bracing for rejection, all the same.
Of course, I”d love to. What time should we meet up?
Oh, and don”t worry. I won”t let this invite go to my head
You better not. I like sleeping in on the weekends if Brody lets me. Is 10 ok?
Perfect, I”ll see you then. Goodnight, Firecracker
Ugh, why am I starting to like that nickname. Goodnight Taran, see you tomorrow
A little cautious hope blooms in my chest, and I go to bed smiling for the first time in a while.