The Risks We Take Duet Box Set

36. Carys

CARYS

I ’ve been poked and prodded more times than I can count over the past two months. Dr. Cruz has been a woman on a mission, determined to figure out what’s wrong with me. And it has become increasingly obvious that something is definitely wrong. Her office is in the building attached to the hospital where Jessie works, so she met me here today as soon as I called.

Dr. Cruz’s receptionist called this morning to let me know there was a cancellation and said the doctor would like to see if I could come in. Something about that made me nervous. I’ve been waiting for an answer. For a diagnosis. Until now, it hasn’t come, but I think that’s about to change. And I guess I’m a big baby who’s scared to face that alone.

When Dr. Cruz walks in today, she looks as stylish as ever, but her normally warm eyes are a few degrees cooler. Jessie sits next to me in front of the big wooden desk, and I reach for her hand.

“Rip the Band-Aid off, Dr. Cruz. I can tell you have news. And you wouldn’t have been in a rush to see me if it was good news. So just tell me what it is.”

Her chocolate-brown eyes look between Jessie and me before she sits down in her chair opposite us. “Carys, I need to refer you to another doctor.”

My stomach drops, and I can’t breathe for a moment before her words crash down on me. I let go of Jessie’s hand, then stand and start pacing. “Please don’t do this. I’ve spent the last three months seeing you. I spent a month before that seeing my primary.”

“Carys,” she says in a calm, soothing voice. “I need you to see a rheumatologist. I believe you have lupus.”

I drop down into my chair.

“What?”

Jessie’s hand grabs mine. “Really? Lupus?” she asks.

“Understand that I am not a rheumatologist, and there are a few more tests I believe they will run to confirm my diagnosis. But yes. I believe you have lupus.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I admit in a fog. “What is lupus?”

“It’s an autoimmune disease that’s most common in women and is typically diagnosed between the ages of fifteen and forty-five. It’s not an easy disease to diagnose, but it can be treated. If I’m right, and this is what has been causing you to get sick, you need to understand that it isn’t something that’s curable, Carys. But it’s treatable. You’ll live with lupus for the rest of your life, but with proper treatment, you’ll live.” She picks up a card from her desk and places it inside a white folder. “This is the name of my colleague here at the hospital. I’ve already made a call, and they’re waiting to hear from you.”

She closes the folder and hands it to me. “Call them today, Carys. Don’t wait.”

I stand to thank her, noticing the folder is heavy in my hands as the room starts to spin around me. Jessie steadies me as we say our goodbyes. She doesn’t leave my side as we walk to the elevator with our fingers laced together while silent tears rack my body.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying. I have no idea what lupus is or what it does,” I admit, feeling ignorant.

“Give me your keys,” she demands.

When I don’t move fast enough for her, she places her palm in front of me. “Give ’em. I’m driving you home.”

“What about work?” I don’t want her to get in trouble.

“I’m done for the day. Now, keys please.”

I give her the keys and get in the passenger side of the Jeep. “What about your car?”

“Don’t worry about it. Ford and the guys will grab it for me later.”

I lay my head back against the seat and close my eyes, not sure what to do first.

“Carys, take your phone out. Get the card and call the rheumatologist. Make your appointment.”

She’s right. But it doesn’t make any of this feel real.

H ours later, I’ve devoured everything I could find online about lupus.

Some of it gave me hope. Apparently, you can manage what they call your flare-ups. For me, those flare-ups have been the fevers I’ve been getting, coupled with the fatigue and headaches. I haven’t really experienced the joint pain or swelling, but I have had the occasional shortness of breath and a little chest pain. I hadn’t exactly mentioned that to anyone though. But that was why I stopped running. It was getting harder.

From what I can tell, lupus can cause complications with most of the major organs in your body. I stopped reading that part because it was too scary to keep going down that road, and fear is already a driving factor in all of this. The list of complications is long. And there at the bottom... was potential pregnancy.

As if it wasn’t already going to be hard enough for me to conceive and carry a baby with my PCOS, complications of lupus can be dangerous for the baby and me. I slam my laptop closed and throw it across my bed as I read those words.

Increased risk of miscarriage.

Increased risk of preterm birth.

Consult your doctor before getting pregnant.

I’m twenty years old. I’m not ready to have a baby now. But I want to know it’s an option when I’m ready. A baby with Cooper’s blue eyes and blond hair.

My phone rings with an incoming call from Coop, but I decline it instead and curl up in a ball, not ready to talk to him or anyone else.

Maybe Dr. Cruz was wrong.

D r. Cruz wasn’t wrong.

One week later, Jessie came with me to my appointment with Dr. Gaither, my new doctor. I made her promise not to tell Ford anything until after today’s appointment. I haven’t told anyone yet. Not my family or my roommates. Not even Chloe or Daphne. And definitely not Cooper. None of them can do anything to help me. So until there’s something definite to tell them, it’s easier not to say anything.

Dr. Gaither is an older man with stark white hair and small glasses, who reminds me of someone you’d cast as a wise old grandpa on a TV show. He seems warm and understanding, and the awards on his walls make me think he’s at the top of his field, which I find extremely comforting.

“Do you have any questions for me, Carys?”

We’ve been in here for nearly an hour already. I have lupus, but it’s not a death sentence.

“I have so many, but I can’t think of a single one right now.” Brutal honesty is about all I have the energy for at this point.

“Continue tracking everything in your journal, but I do think the prolonged exposure to the sun seems to be a trigger for you.”

A single tear tracks down my cheek. “Will I be able to have kids?” I’m trying so hard to hold myself together but failing.

“There’s no way I can give you a qualified answer to that question right now, Carys. Quite a few factors will come into play when it’s time to consider that.” He’s dancing around the answer, and I don’t appreciate it.

I look over to Jessie, who has a notebook resting in her lap where she’s been taking notes during the entire appointment. Her watery eyes force me to push harder. She’s a nurse practitioner. She understands all of this on a level I don’t yet. If she’s upset, there’s a reason to be upset.

“Dr. Gaither, if I wanted to get pregnant right now. Today. What would you tell me?”

“Carys, I don’t like to play what if games.” The look he sees on my face must change his mind. “But if you need an answer today, based on the flare-up you’ve been in on and off for months now, as well as your medical history, yes, you could possibly get pregnant. But whether you could carry to term is uncertain. And it could be extremely dangerous for you. I don’t know how your body would physically handle a pregnancy. I wouldn’t suggest it. In fact, I’d warn against it.”

With a small nod, I stand. “Thank you, Dr. Gaither. I’ll schedule my follow-up for next month on my way out.”

“Please do, Carys. I need to see you monthly until we have this under control.” He rises from his desk and watches us leave his office.

I make my appointment and add it to my calendar, then look at Jessie. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah. Want me to drive?” She’s been such a good friend throughout this. Some people come into your life at the exact moment you need them most, and Jessie is definitely that person.

“No, I’m good. At least now I know what I’m dealing with. That’s a start.” I’m pretty impressed with the front I’m able to put on right now.

She doesn’t need to know that my heart is breaking.