Chapter 26 New Year’s Eve #3
I punch the red button on my phone and wait.
My toes and fingers are slowly going numb, along with my heart.
I’ve made my decision. I need to go back to my old life.
I have enough memories stored away, and I’ve learned enough, so I’ll no longer pine for the life I think others have.
There is no need to be jealous, no one’s life is perfect or easy.
That’s just a fantasy. As my grandmother told me, I can stand tall on my own and try to figure out what I want that fits into my world.
I’m in a semi-dream state when Jake rushes up to me and takes my ice-cold cheeks in his hands and kisses me.
“Listen, I’m so sorry,” he pleads. “I should have said something. I don’t know why I didn’t.
Well, I know why I didn’t, and it was cowardly.
I just wanted the night to be over and get Oliver into bed before something really bad happened.
I didn’t mean what my mother said wasn’t really bad.
It was. It’s just Oliver can be volatile, and I didn’t want you to see that.
Listen, tell me what happened. Oh God, you look awful. ”
I hear words tumbling out of Jake’s mouth, but I can’t grasp them. I’m off in my own world and I know now he is not part of it.
I speak softly, “My wrist may be broken, and my ankle hurts too.”
Jake examines both carefully. Standing quickly, he hails a taxi driving by.
I’m surprised we found one so quickly, until I look down at his watch and see that it’s only a little past midnight.
We’re still in the sweet spot of time, just after midnight, even though it feels like a lifetime has passed since we left the party.
Jake settles me into the taxi and kisses me again, “Happy New Year, Emma.”
Normally I would melt into him, but both the pain and my recent realizations keep me in my place.
He scrutinizes me, a perplexed look on his face, as he tells the cabbie, “Mount Sinai hospital.”
We drive the few blocks in silence.
The emergency room is busy but not crazy; that will come later.
We sit and wait; finally, my name is called, and we go back to a small exam room.
The medical assistant asks me several questions as she takes my vitals.
Sitting on the crinkly tissue paper, I’m swept back to the last time I sat on such a bed. I’m lost in my musings.
Jake gets up from the chair, his forehead creased with concern. “Emma, are you okay? You look kind of out of it. Do you think you hit your head?”
He takes his hands and starts feeling my head, moving my hair off my forehead.
Taking hold of his hands, I push them back down and say flatly, “I didn’t hit my head, Jake.”
He sits back down only to jump back up when the doctor enters the room. The doctor is young and has a chart in hand. He asks me the same questions the medical assistant just asked.
Examining my wrist and ankle, he states, “We need to order X-rays, but I’d say you’re right. Broken wrist and a sprained ankle.”
I ask quietly, “Jake, can you step out of the room for a moment, please?”
Jake glances up in surprise and I keep my gaze steady. He gets up and closes the door behind him.
Turning to the doctor, I state matter-of-factly, “So, I have MS, I was diagnosed with it a few months ago. I’m not on any medication yet, but that is what caused my fall. Dr. Liam is my MS doctor. I’m not sure if that makes any difference at all, but I wanted to tell you just in case.”
I stop talking and try to meet the doctor’s eyes but can’t.
I don’t want to see the pity that comes with such a revelation.
I’ve seen it from too many doctors over the years for my mother.
I’m not ready to see it directed at me—not yet.
Doctor Tremont sits down and starts punching information into the computer, intently reading the information that comes up.
He finally twirls around. “I’m just reviewing your records. Dr. Liam’s office is part of the Mt. Sinai healthcare system. This says they suspected MS back in September, but your Lyme disease test came back positive, and they treated you for Lyme; that should have resolved your problems. Did it?”
I stare dumbfounded. “What did you say?” I stammer.
He regards me steadily, and this time I meet his eyes. “Your chart says it was Lyme disease, and you were treated for it. Are you still having muscle weakness and swollen joints? You may need another dose of antibiotics—sometimes Lyme can be persistent.”
“Dr. Liam doesn’t think it’s MS?”
Dr. Tremont replies, “You definitely had Lyme, but only you know if you still have symptoms but if you do, I would treat you for Lyme again before I jumped to MS, despite your family history.”
Thinking back, I realize I have had no symptoms since that first month after my visit to Dr. Liam. I’ve been just fine right until this fall. Could the horrible sidewalks explain my fall coupled with my distraction because of the wretched evening and not MS?
I don’t know what to think about that. My diagnosis has been a part of me for almost four months.
It is why I agreed to this ruse with Jake and what made me break out of my shell to live a little.
Without MS, suddenly I have no idea what I’m doing.
My shoulders hunch, curling into myself. I lost my security blanket.
There is a knock on the door and two orderlies poke their heads in.
“X-Ray,” one of them says.
Right behind them is Jake, looking more worried than I’ve ever seen him.
I glance away. I’ve played an awful trick on him.
I was planning to disappear into my little cocoon come March, fading away into my illness.
Now, I’m not going to do that, and suddenly my entire plan is much messier and more problematic than I expected.
Now, apparently, I am going to be alive and well, which means I have a lifetime to wonder what Jake is doing and who he’s marrying.
Oh, no! My stomach clenches. I’ll bump into Jake going and coming from his parents’ place at 4:00 a.m. once I’m back at my bakery job soon enough. Ugh! I want to scream.
The orderlies shift me to a gurney, and I’m wheeled down the hall to X-ray.
After we get the results, I get a boot for my sprained ankle and a cast for my broken wrist. As soon as both are on, the throbbing lessens and then the two prescription-strength Tylenol kicks in, and I almost feel normal, at least physically.
Jake continues to survey me quizzically.
Dr. Tremont tells me to make an appointment with Dr. Liam and wishes me luck, and it’s over—we are heading home.
We crawl into bed and as we lie side by side, Jake rambles, “You scared me tonight. When I didn’t find you here, I panicked.
I was really scared something happened to you, and I never want anything bad to happen to you.
And then at the hospital, it seemed like something weird was going on .
. . it just got me worried, that’s all.” He continues in a rush, “Do you want to tell me anything? Who is Dr. Liam?”
Turning toward him, I study the gorgeous angles and planes of his face. Suddenly, tears well in my eyes. “Not tonight, please,” I beg. “Not tonight.”