***
Dr. Reynold’s office was as homely as any doctor’s office can be. The cream colored walls were adorned with Monet prints and he offered his patients a high-backed brown leather chair. Everything on his mahogany desk was neatly arranged and, for reasons she couldn’t explain, Allie had always wanted to shift something out of line or, better still, tip his pen holder over.
This time, however, she paid no attention to the compulsively organized desk. Instead, she sat quietly and almost completely still. The only movement was the light swing of her right leg, which was crossed over its partner. She watched the black court shoe, as it swayed back and forth. Momentarily her eyes traveled to the bruise on the inside of her ankle, which was not very well masked by the tan pantyhose she wore. Another war wound; an injury she’d picked up while in the scrum of a press conference. Her brain was unable to focus on anything other than the slow, hypnotic motion of her foot. It was as though anything else, anything even slightly more significant, would be overwhelming.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” The deep voice came from behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn around. She could hear the soft brush of his pant legs, as he made his way swiftly across the room. Allie caught a brief glimpse of the doctor in her peripheral vision, as he approached her right hand side and continued his route around the desk.
“That’s all right,” she said, her gaze lifting from her shoe, as she forced a smile.
Dr. Reynolds didn’t return the grin. The middle-aged man, with a slight potbelly, gently smoothed over his tie as he sat down in a chair almost identical to the one Allie was using. “Thanks for coming in so quickly,” he nodded, running a hand through his black hair, which was speckled with strands of white.
“Well,” Allie murmured. “You’re secretary said it was important.”
The doctor offered a hum in response, while the hand that had been in his hair dropped to the side of his face. One chunky index finger rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw. “We’ve got the results from your blood test,” he stated. “I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
“I’m still anemic?” Allie offered, trying to preempt what the doctor had to say.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, looking Allie directly in the eyes. “It’s much worse than anemia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Allie,” Reynolds said gently. “You’ve got leukemia.”
There followed a deathly silence. Allie could no longer hear the steady roll of traffic outside, she couldn’t hear the hum of the air conditioning. “Cancer?” The word was half question, half resigned statement.
“I’m so sorry,” Reynolds responded calmly and professionally.
“But…” Allie stammered, her head shaking in disbelief. “I…No,” she eventually insisted, as though that simple statement of denial would mean that it wasn’t true.
“You’re suffering from the acute myeloid form of the disease,” Dr. Reynolds said in the same even manner he’d used since he walked into the room. “I want to put you on an aggressive course of chemo right away.”
Allie’s head stilled, as she began to digest the doctor’s words. The beat of her heart became more prominent, the rhythm no more quick than usual, but every pulse stronger than the one before. Her breathing slowed, as she drew in deep lungfuls of oxygen. “Am I going to die?” she asked simply, fixing Reynolds with an unflinching stare.
There was a moment’s pause before he responded. “There’s a chance that with strong doses of chemotherapy and radio-”
“How long?” she interrupted, knowing that the man’s brief pause answered her question more truthfully than the positive spin he was now trying to put on the situation.
Reynolds cocked his head to one side, regarding the stoic features of the young woman before him. “I don’t know,” he honestly replied. “These things aren’t an exact science. It depends how quickly the cancer spreads to your organs or…” The thought trailed off, as he noticed the glazed eyes of his patient. “Allie,” he nudged. “I know an excellent oncologist.”
Allie was no longer looking at her doctor. Instead, she was looking through him. Her eyes landed on the window, the thousands of people that were going about their daily business. She couldn’t help but wonder what was on their minds. What stupid, unimportant things were they worrying about? Moreover, what inconsequential things had she spent the last fifteen years worrying about? How much time had been wasted? How many opportunities squandered?
Dr. Reynolds was still talking, explaining her options and the success rates of chemotherapy. But Allie didn’t hear him, as she rose slowly to her feet. “Thank you for your time,” she mumbled, tossing the strap of her leather briefcase over her shoulder.
“I really think we need to discuss this further,” Reynolds replied, placing his hands on the desk and pushing himself upright. However, he knew that his young patient was no longer listening. “It doesn’t have to be right now,” he quickly added, hoping to draw her attention back to him. “But if we start chemo as soon as possible, there’s a chance-”
Allie had already reached the door when those words found her ears. Her fingers firmly gripping the handle, she twisted her head over her shoulder. “An aggressive course?” she asked, repeating his words from a few minutes earlier. “Which means it’s going to make me sick, very sick. I’ll have to spend days, maybe even weeks or months in the hospital and then what?” she demanded.
Reynolds made no effort to reply, he knew it was a rhetorical question. He simply offered a sympathetic shake of his head.
“I don’t want to die like that,” she insisted. “If this is it, then I’m going to make the most of it while I’m still able to.” Her unwavering statement ended with a smile. “I’m not wasting any more time,” she told him, yanking the door open and striding through the waiting area with her head held high.
3 Book Romance Bundle: "Her Last Love Affair" & "Loving Him Peacefully" & "Unwelcome Reunion" Page 2
