by Nina Kaye
‘It wasn’t an ear-bashing. I’m allergic to lilies. It was a choice between asking you to chuck them or respiratory arrest.’
‘Slight exaggeration.’ Dom takes the flowers from me and dumps them on my bedside cabinet. ‘But I wouldn’t have wanted to go to my work’s black-tie dinner that evening with a wheezing, hive-ridden date on my arm.’
‘Touché.’ I smile. ‘Maybe ask the nurse for an empty water jug to sit them in?’
‘I’ll do that in a bit.’ Dom plonks himself down on one of the chairs beside my bed. ‘I’m more interested in how my beautiful fiancée is doing. That OK?’
Not really, I think to myself. Because that means you’re going to ask questions I don’t want to answer.
‘So, how are you?’ he prompts me.
‘I’m fine. Told you that already. I’ve not been sick at all today. Still fatigued, but that will pass. Looks like I’ll be out tomorrow or the day after.’
‘Great. And the consultant? What was the chat this morning about the anomalies on the scan?’
‘Oh, that. It’s nothing. Just some weirdo doctor who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. So, I was looking at table centrepieces for the wedding today, and I really like the idea of—’
‘Lex, what are you not telling me?’ Dom interjects, his suspicion evident. ‘I know you well enough to know you’re glossing over something because you don’t want to discuss it. What’s going on?’
I consider trying to change the subject again, but I know that won’t work. Instead I opt for the only remaining avoidance strategy: a full-on character assassination of Dr Harlow.
‘Oh, look, it’s nothing. The consultant was on another planet. She sees a couple of smudges on a scan and jumps to conclusions. I mean, she couldn’t even get my name right. What’s that all about? I’ve asked for a second opinion.’
‘That doesn’t sound like nothing.’ Dom’s brow furrows in concern. ‘This woman is a fully trained consultant, surely?’
‘She was a proper neurologist. But she just wasn’t on it. Didn’t you hear me? She couldn’t even get my name right.’
‘Well, if that’s the case, maybe you do need a second opinion. And perhaps you should raise your concerns about her.’
‘That’s probably not necessary.’ I shut down that route quickly. ‘I just need to speak to someone I can trust and communicate with properly.’
‘Sounds fair enough.’ Dom rubs his forehead, a dead giveaway that he’s exhausted.
‘Long day?’
‘Tough day. A number of client cock-ups I had to bail my team out of. I should only be getting involved in the most complex issues, but we have so many new staff, I keep getting pulled into the detail.’
‘That’s rough.’ I beckon for his hand and he slips it into mine. ‘Maybe you should just get off home. I’m fine here. Bored and fidgety, but fine.’
‘No, I’ll stay for a bit.’ He squeezes my hand. ‘Want some time with my gorgeous wife-to-be before I head home to an empty apartment. It feels really empty without you.’
‘Hey, lover, it’s not like we haven’t had nights apart before. What’s this all about?’
Dom’s face has an undecipherable look on it. I’m used to being able to read him like a book, so this unsettles me slightly.
‘I don’t know.’ He smooths his palm against the side of his head as he does when he’s uncomfortable talking about something. ‘I just… when I got that call yesterday, I was terrified in case—’
‘It was just a stupid fall.’ I find myself wondering why I keep having to justify that to everyone. ‘Look at me. Do I look like you’re going to lose me?’
‘Well, no.’ Dom meets my gaze and I can tell he’s been really spooked by this. ‘You look a bit tired, but otherwise, just like the woman I proposed to.’
‘There you go, see. You can stop being silly now.’
‘OK, boss. How about I sort out that water jug then?’
‘Good thinking.’
He heads out of the room and makes his way down the corridor towards the nurses’ station. I lie quietly for a moment waiting for him to return, and as I do an unwelcome thought insinuates itself into my head: what if Dr Harlow isn’t mistaken? What if I do have MS?
Annoyed at myself for even allowing these ideas through, I snatch my iPad from the bedside cabinet and resume scrolling through my wedding-related boards on Pinterest. I’ve just got too much time on my hands. I’m a doer. I live life through action and achievement. My job is something I enjoy and I am successful at it. Being stuck here, it’s like caging a bird. I need my freedom back.
I look up expectantly as someone enters the room, but it’s not Dom, it’s another consultant. A man this time. He’s a bit younger than Dr Harlow, not by much, but he seems more human. He nods and smiles at the other patients as he makes his way through the room.
‘Alex?’ He addresses me as he approaches my bed. ‘I gather that is what you prefer to be called?’
‘That’s right.’ I cringe a little, realising that the naming issue has obviously been discussed with Dr Harlow. ‘Are you my second opinion?’
I glance uncertainly at the door, hoping Dom will remain on his quest long enough for me to get the information I need, or to be able to put this guy off until later.
‘That is correct,’ he confirms. ‘My name is Dr Salessi. I am a consultant neurologist here in the hospital. I have been here for twenty years, diagnosing and working with patients with a range of neurological diseases.’
Why is he practically regurgitating his CV? I’m not interviewing him for a job. He must be making sure I know that he’s experienced and that I can trust his judgement – or, to put it another way, that I shouldn’t question his judgement. This irks me slightly but I force a smile as he pulls the curtain round my bed.
‘The nurse said your fiancé is here?’
‘He is. But he’s gone to find a water jug. No need to wait, you must be very busy.’
‘Sure. Just let me double-check something in your notes first.’ Dr Salessi seems to be stalling for time.
‘Knock, knock.’ Dom’s head appears round the curtain. ‘All right to join you?’
‘Ah, you must be Alex’s fiancé. I am Dr Salessi. And you are…?’
‘Dominic.’ Dom shakes his hand briskly.
‘Alex, are you happy to have Dominic join us?’ Dr Salessi asks. ‘Or would you prefer to speak to me alone? It is your decision.’
Karma has come back for a second bite of revenge. It’s Dom that’s looking at me expectantly this time. There’s no way I can say no.
‘Obviously, it’s fine.’ I wave Dom inside.
Dom enters the makeshift cubicle with an empty plastic water jug, sets it down on my bedside cabinet and stuffs the bouquet of flowers into it.
‘What have I missed?’ He takes a seat.
‘Nothing. We were just at the stage of introductions,’ says Dr Salessi. ‘I was just telling Alex that I have been a consultant neurologist here in the hospital for twenty years, diagnosing and working with patients with a range of neurological diseases.’
‘Right…’ Dom looks understandably confused. ‘I may be behind the curve on this one, but is a concussion classified as a neurological disease?’
He looks to me to check if I am confused as well. I pretend there’s something causing me discomfort in my bed and start to overzealously rearrange my covers. I only need to stall long enough for Dr Salessi to confirm there’s been an error in the diagnosis.
‘You are not “behind the curve”,’ Dr Salessi clarifies. ‘We do not classify concussion as a neurological disease. I am not here to discuss Alex’s concussion.’
‘Ah, you must be the second opinion Alex asked for?’
‘I am indeed here to provide that. Alex was visited by my colleague, Dr Harlow, earlier this morning. Dr Harlow explained to Alex that the anomalies on her MRI scan were in fact what we call lesions – that is damage to the nerves in the brain. It is caused by an auto
immune condition called multiple sclerosis or MS.’
Dom’s face immediately drains of colour. ‘I’m sorry. Did you just say—’
‘It’s fine, Dom,’ I interrupt. ‘It’s a misdiagnosis. There’s no way I have MS. I mean, look at the way I live my life. If I was ill, do you think I’d manage all that?’
‘Alex, I know this is very difficult for you,’ says Dr Salessi. ‘But I have reviewed the scans, as well as Dr Harlow’s notes, and I very much support her diagnosis. I will of course perform the same neurological examination but the scan itself provides enough evidence of the disease. It also explains your fatigue, the clumsiness you describe, and why you experienced double vision before your fall.’
I look at Dom, who’s staring straight ahead, completely bewildered, then focus my attention on Dr Salessi.
‘I’m sorry, I just can’t accept what you’re telling me. The anomalies must be related to my concussion. I need another opinion – from a different hospital altogether. What do I need to do to arrange this?’
‘Alex, you are in shock, which is a normal reaction.’ Dr Salessi’s tone is kind and empathetic. ‘You can request other opinions. We can even redo the scan once your concussion has subsided. Unfortunately, it is not going to change the outcome.’
‘But I need—’
‘Lex, please stop.’ Dom suddenly comes back to life. ‘You’re not helping yourself. I completely understand your wish for this to go away. I want it to go away. But it’s not going to, no matter how hard you push. It’s clear that the doctor knows what he’s talking about, and two people can’t be wrong.’
He grabs my hand and squeezes it, his eyes slightly pink round the edges from the emotion he’s trying to suppress.
‘You’ve got MS, Lex, and the sooner you accept the diagnosis, the sooner we can get you the support you need. I’m so sorry, kitten. I’m so bloody sorry.’
I look into Dom’s big blue eyes, which are now filling with tears, and I can’t speak. I can’t think. I’m completely lost.
‘I will give you a few minutes alone.’ Dr Salessi discreetly moves away and disappears behind the curtain out of sight.
‘Dom?’ I whisper. ‘Is this really happening?’
He leaps up from his seat and envelops me in his big strong arms. ‘It is. I’m so sorry. I really am.’
A lump of emotion forms in my throat; it’s so intense that it hurts trying to hold it at bay. ‘What did I do wrong, Dom? What? Tell me.’
He pulls me closer. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Lex. Don’t ever, ever think that. Life is just so damn cruel sometimes.’
‘But I just… I can’t even…’
I cling to him as I try to process this information. I’m ill. Really ill. And the only way is downhill. I’m going to lose my physical abilities, my independence, perhaps even my confidence and self-esteem as my body breaks down bit by bit. What does this mean for my career, my future? Our future. Normally when I have a problem, I solve it. Or Dom helps me solve it. We’re the ultimate pragmatists, perfectly matched in every way.
Except that’s just changed. Because I’m not going to be able to keep up. And I don’t want to hold Dom back. I don’t want him to have to become… my carer. I can’t bear the thought of being a burden on him. Will he even want to marry me now? Why would he? We can’t have the future we were so looking forward to together. I’m broken and no one can fix me.
This uncharacteristic whirlwind of thoughts becomes too much for me and I finally break down in tears: huge, heartbreaking sobs, causing Dom to pull me in tighter.
‘It’s OK, kitten. Just cry.’ He soothes me. ‘We’ll get through this together. It doesn’t change anything. It’s you and me against it all, I promise.’
As I listen to his words, it has the opposite effect of what he intended. I don’t feel safe or secure. I feel vulnerable and exposed. Because as much as he says that this doesn’t change a thing, it already has. The balance in our relationship has shifted for ever. The only question that remains is – will it survive?
Chapter 6
‘You OK?’ Dom slams the driver’s door of our double-parked BMW 3 Series and canters round to the passenger side to help me out of the car.
‘I’m fine.’ I pull my hand away from his. ‘I can manage.’
I haul myself out of the car, trying to hide how much this simple action is taking out of me. My muscles feel like dead weights and I’m panting heavily; way too much for what should be very light exertion.
Dom hovers in front of me looking helpless. I can see how much he wants to step in and help. ‘I’ll need to park the car properly. Will you be OK getting up the stairs?’
‘Yes. Go.’ I usher him away, relieved he won’t be around to witness my sorry ascent to our third-floor tenement apartment.
He hesitates for a moment, then makes his way back to the driver’s side of the car and speeds away, keen to get parked and back to me as quickly as possible.
By the time I’ve climbed the five steps to the main door, I’m out of breath again, so I lean against the metal railing, noticing for the first time what a beautiful day it is – the sky is the bluest of blue, not a single cloud in sight. It’s the kind of day that would normally have me itching to pound the tarmac with my Nikes, then laze the afternoon away with Dom or Sasha in a beer garden on Ashton Lane. Instead, I’m facing a day on the sofa, watching my way through a box set on Netflix.
Flattening my palm against the red sandstone facade of our West End tenement building, I enjoy the warmth it’s soaked up from the morning sun: a feeling I’ve always loved, and partly why I had my heart set on one of these apartments. Will that now have to change? It would be gut-wrenching to have to give up our place after it took so long to find, all because there’s no lift. But I also don’t want to be housebound for weeks on end every time I have one of these relapses.
Feeling suddenly weighed down by these life-altering thoughts, I shift my focus back to something more pragmatic: how the hell am I going to get up these stairs? As much as it pains me to give in, I need to swallow the bloody great lump of pride I’m stubbornly chewing on and accept that I can’t cope on my own – just until my symptoms remit.
‘Hey… kitten. Are you all right?’ Dom appears out of nowhere, jogging up the path behind me.
‘I’m admitting defeat just this once.’
‘I did wonder if you’d manage.’ He unlocks the door, then scoops me up into his arms.
‘Hey, that’s not what I meant!’ I waggle inelegantly in his arms.
‘I know.’ He pulls me towards him and kisses my nose. ‘But I like the idea of being your handsome prince. You’re so independent. Let me have my moment.’
I take in his gorgeous, smiling face. His bluest of blue twinkling eyes and cheeky grin. A personality that can light up any room.
‘Fine. You can play the hero today – as long as I get to be me the rest of the time.’
‘Deal.’ Dom grins at me. ‘It’s a bit soon to be carrying you over the threshold, but this might be the only chance I get.’
* * *
A few hours later, I’m camped out on my enormous sofa watching an episode of Big Little Lies when the apartment buzzer sounds.
‘I’ll let her in,’ Dom calls from the bedroom, where he’s tidying up. ‘Just you stay where you are.’
Having decided the less physical effort I have to put into anything right now, the better, I don’t argue. Staying still means I don’t have the constant, conscious reminder that my body has embarked on a bewildering and relentless pursuit of self-destruction.
‘Lex. Oh hon, how are you?’ Sasha bursts through the living room door and launches herself on me with a massive hug.
‘I’m OK.’ I hug her back, feeling her squeeze even harder in response.
‘I cana-buluf-ahapae-naufa,’ she wails into the sleeve of my hooded sweater.
‘What was that?’ I attempt to pry her off me, but my arm muscles burn in protest. ‘Sash, I’ve no idea what
you’re saying.’
‘You weren’t really supposed to.’ She sits up and dabs at her eyes. ‘I just feel so angry for you and so hurt and powerless. It’s not fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair. But we’ll get through this together, right?’
‘We will. I can’t change that you’re ill, but I can make sure I’m there when you need help, support, carried up the stairs, anything.’
‘There’s no way you could carry me up the stairs.’ I chuckle. ‘Even Dom struggled earlier. Not that he’d admit it, the silly sod.’
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’ Dom enters the room with his jacket on.
I blow him a little kiss. ‘Is that you off to the supermarket?’
‘Yeah. Got your list. Though I note there’s a glaring lack of chocolate on it. Can I really not tempt you into a little treat after everything you’ve been through?’
‘Definitely not.’ I shake my head.
‘Can you get me some?’ Sasha asks.
I catch her giving him a little wink, clearly meant as a message of once-I’m-eating-it-she’ll-have-some-too. I don’t know why, but this irritates me.
‘Sure,’ Dom replies with a warm smile. ‘OK, see you ladies in a bit. Have fun.’
He disappears back out of the living room and seconds later the apartment door slams.
‘So, how are you really?’ Sasha pulls off her ankle boots and makes herself comfortable on the sofa beside me. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the hospital.’
‘Don’t worry at all.’ I shift over to give her more room. ‘I was only in for a couple of days, and I know you’ve a lot going on with your mum.’
‘Yeah, but I should have been there. You were going through…’ She tails off as her eyes start to well up again.
‘Hey, stop it.’ I grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table. ‘How can you be there for me if you dissolve into tears every few minutes? Anyway, the two hundred-odd WhatsApp messages you sent were more than enough to show you care.’
