Book Read Free

Would I Lie to You?

Page 14

by Trisha R. Thomas


  The information desk was in the center of the lobby. A security guard sat on a stool, not truly securing anything. His head rested on the side of his fist. He tried to look alert once he saw Venus coming toward him.

  “The directory doesn’t list Dr. Prah. I know she’s in this hospital. I don’t remember her office number, can you look it up for me?”

  He tapped a few keys and waited for the screen to open up. “Dr. Prah is no longer with Kaiser.” He put his finger on the screen, then twisted it around so Venus could see for herself. “Not available HS location 10/22 forward PATs to Dr. Lamb.”

  The look on her face indicated that she didn’t understand. He flipped the computer module back toward him. He began reading. “Not available at the Hollywood/Sunset location as of October 22; forward patients to Dr. Lamb. That’s what that means. Dr. Lamb is in 206.” He pressed a button to make the screen fade, then fell back into his security stance, head perched on bent elbow and fist

  Venus walked, stunned, to the elevator. She had just seen Dr. Prah today, or was it yesterday? She couldn’t really say that she’d actually seen the doctor. Not physically. She pressed the button again. This was adding insult to injury, a hard stiff poke in the eye, and any other cruelty beyond comprehension. Dr. Prah butchers an innocent woman and then bolts. God! Did Pauletta know? Probably, yes. Why tell Venus anything? What could she do about it, except make things worse?

  Once inside the elevator with the doors closed tight, she swung her purse around, knocking it into the handicap bar. Shit. What kind of doctor just ups and leaves patients who are in her care? Maybe she’d been fired. Maybe someone found out she was a walking liability, giving bad medical care and advice, and sent her packing. The elevator opened up directly to the new doctor’s office. Venus walked in and went directly to the partitioned window. There was a beige-skinned Latina woman sitting with the phone pressed against her ear. She held up one finger and smiled. “Yes … okay, no problem, we’ll see you then.” Her accent was thick and happy.

  “My mother is a patient here, she had a mastectomy, courtesy of Dr. Prah, and now I find out she’s no longer here and Dr. Lamb is the referral.” It came out more as a question than a statement; Venus was still trying to understand herself.

  “Yes, we have Dr. Prah’s patients. Let me see. What is your mother’s name?”

  “Pauletta Johnston.”

  “How do you spell that? Oh, never mind, here she is. Yes. We have her scheduled for a follow-up on the thirty-first.” After reading the rest of the file, she looked up with a compassionate frown. “How’s she doing?”

  Venus had to think about it for a minute and realized she’d never asked her mother that question. Never once simply asked, “Mom, how’re you doing?”

  “She’s home. Resting. She has weakness in her hand and arm. I wanted to talk to someone, I have a lot of questions. There’s so much going on, and I don’t understand how to help. I want to help, but I’m afraid of what’s going on.” The receptionist’s facial expression was Venus’s only clue that she was losing it, speaking in hiccuped phrases, unable to maintain the front of calmness and reasonability.

  The receptionist rushed from around her square box and put an arm around Venus. “Come. Come with me.” She pushed the door open and took her inside. Venus could feel the eyes of the waiting patients witnessing her breakdown, watching her being escorted away to the private ward for the distressed. She maneuvered Venus around the maze of halls, stopping in front of a closed door.

  “Here. Sit down. I will get you some tissue.” The door closed. Venus was alone inside the exam room. At least the walls were a sunny yellow with soft pastel pictures of meadows and woods. But she was still cold. She rubbed the sides of her arms, afraid to let go even for a moment to wipe the liquid draining from her nose and eyes.

  “Here you go.” The small hand appeared with tissue. She grabbed hold. “I’m sorry, this is the worst feeling, not being able to help or to do anything for my mother.”

  Venus blew and wiped while the receptionist pulled up a chair next to her. “Dr. Lamb is going to stop in and talk with you. He doesn’t have a lot of time between his patients, but I’ll make sure he sees you. Everything is going to be fine.” She rubbed Venus’s back. “You’re shaking.” She walked over and stood tiptoe in front of a cabinet to pull out a plastic wrapped blanket, similar to the airplane blankets. She opened it and spread the blanket around Venus’s shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Venus blew again and dabbed at her tired eyes, the double-crossers.

  “Do you want something to drink while you’re waiting? How about some tea, or coffee?”

  “Water would be fine.”

  “Okay, be right back.” The receptionist moved quickly.

  Venus took the window of time to calm herself. She hated being pathetic. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. She took a moment, telling herself to shake it off. She had real questions that needed real answers. She didn’t want someone patronizing her, telling her everything would be all right. Go home, be patient, wait your turn … the cancer would find you if it needed you.

  “Here you go.” A Dixie cup filled with water appeared. Venus nodded a thank-you. She was quickly alone again in the brightly lit room. She looked up to study the source, wondering why they weren’t conserving energy in here, too. Fluorescent lights. Tricky. Designed to not work unless all of them were working. Like the lights on a Christmas tree, connected and intertwined, all dependent on the other. Sort of like a family The blood was the cord that bound each to the other whether they liked it or not.

  The doctor knocked before coming inside. Venus looked up to see a gentle-faced man of color, not sure which culture, his fine curly hair graying at the temples. He wore a white coat, old-school style. Most doctors ditched the lab jacket for business casual these days. He was a welcome sight.

  “How’re you doing today? I hear you’ve got some questions for me.” He sat in the chair the receptionist had planted beside her.

  She nodded a yes.

  “Why don’t we start with the most important one; your mother’s surgery was considered a success. A dye scan was performed during the operation that shows where the cells may have trailed and it appears the cancer hadn’t moved beyond the right mass.” He looked up to assure her, “Dr. Prah removed the lymph nodes just as a precaution. When your mother comes in next week, we’ll discuss how we’re going to continue to fight this thing, radiology, chemo. There’s a lot of new therapy, new options that are available now that weren’t accessible even a few years ago.” He bounced back in the unsteady small chair, probably forgetting he wasn’t in his doctor’s office, closed the file, then asked. “So now, your questions.”

  “I was concerned about me.” There, it was officially noted. Venus was worrying about herself at a time like this. She wanted to know the chances of her getting cancer, too. Mother, daughter, the link of blood and genetics, heredity, and lights that completely broke down from the weakness of the other. “Tell me,” she said as if they shared a secret, “what’s going to happen to me?” Venus twisted the used tissue around her index finger, forming a mock cast. She squeezed it tight, putting enough pressure to remind herself that she wasn’t an unfeeling shrew.

  He sighed, as if it were a common fear. “A while ago, the medical community believed very strongly that if you had an immediate relative like a mother, grandmother, or aunt with breast cancer, the likelihood of cancer was substantial. That’s different from what we’re finding out these days. Your odds are just as good of not getting cancer as they are of getting it Does that make sense? What I’m trying to say is, there are no definitive prediction markers for breast cancer. As hard as we like to assign numbers and quantifiable data to everything, this disease still remains a mystery as to its causes, as to its targets, who will be affected, who won’t. Same goes with the genetic analysis. Finding the so-called cancer gene doesn’t guarantee cancer. In fact, from that study alone, it’s proven not to be the ca
se. Maybe it has something to do with caution. Once those people find out they’re at risk, they may take better care of themselves, better diet, exercise, rest. The fact of the matter is, no guarantees. The best thing you can do is be aware. How old are you?” Dr. Lamb asked, leaning forward to get her attention.

  “Thirty-six.”

  “You’re already doing something right” He smiled.

  Venus returned the smile appropriately. Pauletta looked younger than her age also. What had it mattered?

  “The first thing to do is get a baseline mammogram, just to have it on record, something to use as a reference mark. Then have follow-ups every other year, and do your home exams. There’s a lobby full of reading materials to show the proper way to do them. I think you’re on the right track by being here. Understanding this disease and keeping a watchful eye is the only defense at this point.” He put a light hand on her arm before standing up. He pulled a card out of his front coat pocket. “If you need anything, have any questions, you can always call.” He handed her the card, then grabbed a pen off the counter with Pauletta’s file. “Same last name as your mother?” He began to scribble doctor scratch, looking to her for an answer.

  “Yes. Venus Johnston.”

  “Okay, Venus Johnston, we’re now friends; don’t hesitate to call for yourself, or your mother,”

  Venus nodded her head up and down, still wavering on shaky ground.

  “You go on home and take care of your mother. I bet you can cook, make some old-fashioned chicken soup, or my favorite, gumbo. She needs to be healthy when we start the preventive medicines.” His gray temples creased with his smile. “I’m depending on you,”

  Venus stood up and walked to the door he held open. “Thank you,” she whispered, or what sounded like a whisper to her congested nose and eardrums. “Dr. Lamb, I know this is probably a normal thing, to switch patients, but what happened to Dr. Prah?”

  “She’s moved on to a private practice. It’s not in our best interest to make referrals outside of our medical group, but I’d be happy to pass that information to you as a personal favor, if your mother would like to see her instead. I wouldn’t be offended at all.”

  Venus had the urge to hug him. “No. That’s not necessary. My mother is going to love you. I was just curious.”

  “Take care, now,” he said, as he moved on to his next crisis.

  Doctors weren’t so bad, at least not all of them. She stood in front of the elevator, smashing her thumb into the steel round button, suddenly feeling like it was stronger than she and attempting to push back. Amazing how things were meant to be. If Dr. Prah hadn’t ditched her mother, there wouldn’t have been a Dr. Lamb to save the day, to save her mother.

  A very pregnant woman came and gave it a just-in-case press, then waited right alongside of her. Obviously a nurse, from her flowered smock and white pants.

  “When are you due?” Venus looked down at the wide tummy, still wiping at her nose with tissue.

  The woman wore blond synthetic braids around her dark skin. “Six more days; it’s scheduled. I’m not leaving this in the hands of Mother Nature. My doctor and I decided to induce. Didn’t want to take any chances. You haven’t seen crazy, till you’ve seen a hospital on Halloween night. No thanks. My baby is scheduled to grace this beautifully mixed-up world on schedule and in an orderly environment”

  The elevator arrived. The doors opened. Venus let the very pregnant woman go first, then attempted to take a step in. She grabbed the metal bar and slumped down. It felt like the square box was tipping on its side.

  “Whoa, you all right?” The woman’s blond braids hung over her shoulder, tickling the bridge of Venus’s nose. “I’m a nurse. Look at me.” She took a hold of her wrist, checking her watch at the same time. “Too low and your eyes are way glassy. When’s the last time you ate?” She helped Venus stand.

  Venus felt like telling her, since the nightmare started with her mother diagnosed with cancer. Since that day she’d predicted her own demise; death was imminent, so why eat “I haven’t had anything all day.”

  “Well, first stop, the cafeteria.” The woman pushed the basement button. “Is there anything else wrong with you, a condition? You are here at the hospital.” She squeezed her wrist and checked her watch at the same time.

  “Not for me, I’m here for my mother. I’m fine.”

  The elevator stopped at the lobby. The very pregnant nurse tapped the button again. “I’ll see you down.”

  “Oh no, you don’t have to.”

  The doors closed. “I’ll just make sure you get something good. Don’t try the fettuccine or tortellini, they use real butter, for God’s sake.” The elevator stopped, sending a light dizzy wave over Venus. She followed the compact woman to the cafeteria.

  “Got an emergency here. Excuse me.” The pregnant nurse reached past a couple of white shirts and green scrubs. She sniffed a mound of cottage cheese, then put it back. She picked up a bright green cup of Jell-O squares with whipped cream on the top. “6112, Vera. Put it on my account” She waved at the cashier and came back to the table with the wobbly green glob. Venus looked at it, poked, then ate.

  “That’s a safe warm-up. Then you can try the mashed potatoes. It’s good to start out slow when you haven’t eaten in a while. So what’s your story? You certainly don’t look like you’re broke. Food just not an appealing part of your day anymore?” She snapped her ringer and pointed at Venus. “Maybe you’re going to look like me in about seven and a half months. You pregnant?”

  Venus nearly choked on the mouthful. “No.” She swallowed. “My mom was sick. Food was definitely the last thing on my mind.”

  “Oh, yes, I understand. So, how’s she doing?”

  The question again. How was she doing? She looked the perfect stranger in the eye and wondered how she would react if she simply said, I don’t know, never bothered to ask, too busy worrying about myself.

  “She’s doing okay, as well as to be expected after a mastectomy.”

  “Ooooh, I’m sorry.” The woman curled a soft frown. She sat quietly watching Venus eat, realizing there was only so much she could do for this one. Her work was done. She looked at her watch. “My husband is probably parked out front waiting with his panties in a bunch.” She stood up, not that much taller than when she was sitting. “Try the mashed potatoes. They use real butter too, but not a crateful like in the fettuccine.”

  “Thank you.” Venus stood up, reaching out and having to stand nearly a foot away from the protruding bundle of joy to give the woman a hug. She didn’t want the opportunity to pass again, the pull of waiting arms from someone with an open heart. So many things people took for granted.

  “You take care.” The nurse did her best to hug Venus back but her arms only reached halfway.

  “I will. Thanks.” Venus slumped back in the vinyl seat. She finished the Jell-O and cleaned the sides of the bowl with her spoon.

  THE late lunch crowd was beginning to file in. Chirping voices and echoes of laughter. The drab dark cafeteria was coming to life with the people who took pride in their jobs, the caretakers, the healers. She spotted Clint talking with a small crowd. He dismissed himself when he spotted Venus.

  “Come here often?” He leaned over on both knuckles, giving her a peck on the cheek. The man had gotten better looking with age. His pure chocolate skin was even darker, probably from the California sun. There was nothing like watching the change, a boy transformed into a man. When they’d lived together, she didn’t think he could get any more good-looking than he already was. His heavy-lidded eyes tilted downward when he smiled. His serious athletic body from running track and playing football in high school and college was still maintained. This was more than looks or his gorgeous physique. This was about confidence, a self-maturation that gave him a new appealing air. He was comfortable filling his man shoes.

  “Gotta love the excellent cuisine.” She looked down at her empty Styrofoam bowl.

  “Can I sit?” His even
jawline rose and fell with the question.

  “Sure. So how have you been, Dr. Fairchild?”

  “No small talk, okay. Uh uh, you were my best friend, V. I’m not about to sit here and waste your time or mine with bullshit chitchat.”

  “You were mine, too.” Venus said, softly “So then, no small talk. Where’s the woman you dumped me for?” She folded her arms over her chest.

  He smiled, the lights in the cafeteria brightened. “You dumped me first.” He shook his head like he should have known better than to ask, will the real Venus Johnston please stand.

  “How’s your mother doing?” His tone quieted.

  “She’s home, resting.”

  “I wish I’d known she was here, I would have checked in on her. Who’s her doctor?”

  “Who was her doctor, you mean. Dr. Prah suddenly no longer works here. I mean, are you guys in a union or something? You just up and quit or move on like it’s no big deal. People’s lives depend on you guys and you act like it’s just a job, off to the next best offer. I’m glad she’s gone anyway.”

  Clint let her say her piece as he’d been trained to do many years ago. He shook his head. “Who’s her doctor now?” he said it slowly, making it clear he wanted a straight answer.

  “Dr. Lamb.”

  “I’ve heard of him but haven’t met him yet. I’ll make it a point to talk to him, let him know it’s all in the family.”

  “So you have to have a reference, be from good stock to get good care?” She asked, feeling the heat rising in her face again.

  “This line of business ain’t no different from any other … putting in a word can’t hurt and it always helps.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Is that okay with you?”

  “I’ve already talked with Dr. Lamb. He’s a good man. I don’t know what else you could add.”

  “Still trying to play tough, huh?”

 

‹ Prev