Leigh, is that we do surgery as soon as possible so we can get you started on your treatments.” He talked like he didn’t know, like we needed to check, but he knew. Just like me.
“Don’t even try to make it sound like I’m going to a spa,” I said. “I’ve been there before.”
He smiled thinly and nodded. “I won’t know for sure what we’re looking at until we get in there, but you’re obviously going to lose your ovary and tube on that side, not that they’re doing you any good. We’ll look around carefully, measure fluid, that kind of thing. I can say with about eighty percent confidence that we’ve caught it at stage two again, that means not a lot of fun for you, but great as far as survival rates go.”
Brian couldn’t hide his reaction from those words. “Survival rates.” It had scared me to death the first time around. I knew what to expect now. I squeezed Brian’s hand and he looked down at me with what he thought was a reassuring smile.
“So . . . um . . .” Brian’s voice shook.
“I can’t give you any numbers or anything until we’ve gone in, and I hear back from the lab. This is the part that all the husbands want.” He patted Brian once on the shoulder before turning his attention back to me. “So, Leigh, I need you to eat all healthy stuff, drink tons of water and get some good rest. I’m going to call the hospital so we can get this started, okay?”
I nodded. T he lump in my throat kept me from speaking.
“Don’t worry.” Dr. Watts smiled at Brian as he stood. “She’s a tough girl. I’m going to make a few calls. I’ll be right back.” He smiled again and left the room.
My marriage with Brian seemed so new. Fragile wasn’t the right word, it just seemed like too much in our first few months together. I wasn’t ready for the first part of our marriage to be over.
Brian took a deep breath. “You must be ready to get out of here.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “But I’m not ready to call Mom.” I knew I’d hear her heart break over the phone. I didn’t want to do it.
Dr. Watts stepped back in.
“That was fast,” I said. That wasn’t good. When doctors were quick, it was never good.
“Brian, can you excuse us for a minute?” he asked.
“No, no, he can stay.” I shook my head.
“Nope, sorry Brian, just for a minute,” he insisted.
“No problem.” Brian squeezed my hand before leaving the room.
I didn’t like Brian being dismissed like that. “What… ” I started to say not even trying to hide my irritation .
“Leigh.” Dr. Watts held my gaze in his. “Brian will not know either way, I will tell him its office policy. Do you want him to know everything I tell you?”
“Of course.” I didn’t even have to think about that. Brian needed to know, probably more than me. I had a habit of blocking things out.
“This means I talk to him about treatments, severity, what you need to do. And I know you well enough that you don’t like to hear it.” A corner of his mouth pulled up a little. He’d dealt with me well my freshman year of school when I wanted nothing to do with him or guidelines—e ven when my recovery depended on it.
“It’s okay. Brian’s it, you know?” I wrapped my arms around my middle, like my arms on my sides would he lp me be more in this moment—n ot that I was sure I wanted to be in the moment.
“Okay. Good.” He stood up and opened the door. “We’re ready for you, Brian. Thanks.”
Brian walked back in, his eyes on me, wary, afraid.
“I think we can do you Thursday.”
“Like in two days Thursday?” I asked.
“Like in two days Thursday.”
“Doesn’t it take way longer than that just to get approval for insurance and stuff?”
“Your parents set up a cash account with your doctor in St. George. The information was transferred with your medical records when you moved up here. The
“Don’t even try to make it sound like I’m going to a spa,” I said. “I’ve been there before.”
He smiled thinly and nodded. “I won’t know for sure what we’re looking at until we get in there, but you’re obviously going to lose your ovary and tube on that side, not that they’re doing you any good. We’ll look around carefully, measure fluid, that kind of thing. I can say with about eighty percent confidence that we’ve caught it at stage two again, that means not a lot of fun for you, but great as far as survival rates go.”
Brian couldn’t hide his reaction from those words. “Survival rates.” It had scared me to death the first time around. I knew what to expect now. I squeezed Brian’s hand and he looked down at me with what he thought was a reassuring smile.
“So . . . um . . .” Brian’s voice shook.
“I can’t give you any numbers or anything until we’ve gone in, and I hear back from the lab. This is the part that all the husbands want.” He patted Brian once on the shoulder before turning his attention back to me. “So, Leigh, I need you to eat all healthy stuff, drink tons of water and get some good rest. I’m going to call the hospital so we can get this started, okay?”
I nodded. T he lump in my throat kept me from speaking.
“Don’t worry.” Dr. Watts smiled at Brian as he stood. “She’s a tough girl. I’m going to make a few calls. I’ll be right back.” He smiled again and left the room.
My marriage with Brian seemed so new. Fragile wasn’t the right word, it just seemed like too much in our first few months together. I wasn’t ready for the first part of our marriage to be over.
Brian took a deep breath. “You must be ready to get out of here.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “But I’m not ready to call Mom.” I knew I’d hear her heart break over the phone. I didn’t want to do it.
Dr. Watts stepped back in.
“That was fast,” I said. That wasn’t good. When doctors were quick, it was never good.
“Brian, can you excuse us for a minute?” he asked.
“No, no, he can stay.” I shook my head.
“Nope, sorry Brian, just for a minute,” he insisted.
“No problem.” Brian squeezed my hand before leaving the room.
I didn’t like Brian being dismissed like that. “What… ” I started to say not even trying to hide my irritation .
“Leigh.” Dr. Watts held my gaze in his. “Brian will not know either way, I will tell him its office policy. Do you want him to know everything I tell you?”
“Of course.” I didn’t even have to think about that. Brian needed to know, probably more than me. I had a habit of blocking things out.
“This means I talk to him about treatments, severity, what you need to do. And I know you well enough that you don’t like to hear it.” A corner of his mouth pulled up a little. He’d dealt with me well my freshman year of school when I wanted nothing to do with him or guidelines—e ven when my recovery depended on it.
“It’s okay. Brian’s it, you know?” I wrapped my arms around my middle, like my arms on my sides would he lp me be more in this moment—n ot that I was sure I wanted to be in the moment.
“Okay. Good.” He stood up and opened the door. “We’re ready for you, Brian. Thanks.”
Brian walked back in, his eyes on me, wary, afraid.
“I think we can do you Thursday.”
“Like in two days Thursday?” I asked.
“Like in two days Thursday.”
“Doesn’t it take way longer than that just to get approval for insurance and stuff?”
“Your parents set up a cash account with your doctor in St. George. The information was transferred with your medical records when you moved up here. The
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