We sat in almost complete silence, each of us in our own little world of fear. I still couldn’t speak for fear of vomiting. I got up and wandered the room, desperate to know more. Why were they taking so long? Why?
A nurse in flower print scrubs came up to the desk next to me as I strained to see through the windows that led to the scanning area. She had several files in her arms along with a stack of x-rays. “Do you have anything for me, Ruthie?” she asked the nurse behind the desk.
“Hi, Sue. Yes. Here’s the CAT scan for Dr. Colter.” She slipped the file onto her pile.
“I heard he got hurt. How bad is it?” Sue asked.
“Not sure, exactly, but they’ve decided to do an MRI on him within the next hour.” Ruthie pointed to the double doors behind her with her thumb. “It doesn’t sound good.”
Sue shook her head. “I’d better get these upstairs. Let me know how he does. He’s a great guy. I’d hate anything bad to happen to him.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Ruthie said as Sue left.
I slid to the floor, everything around me fading to white. Voices, talking to me through water, calling my name, only I couldn’t answer. My body rocked back and forth. The motion made me nauseous, but I didn’t stop. Someone was crying, loudly. I wanted to tell her to stop, before realizing . . . it was me.
Warm arms encircled my shoulders, pulling me up off the floor and through the white haze. Faces and voices slowly came into focus. Someone guided me to the chairs. Seth. Gently, he sat me down. He took my hands in his, rubbing them.
“Lilah . . . Lilah, take some deep breaths. Come on.” I stared at him blankly, confused at first, until the fog thinned. I inhaled one, two, three deep breaths.
Maggie sat next to me. “Lilah, he’ll be okay. You know Cole. Klutzy is his middle name.” She laughed, only her eyes spoke volumes. She, too, was scared.
“It’s not good,” I managed to blurt out finally. “I heard the nurse say it wasn’t good. She said they’re doing an MRI within the next hour.”
Maggie blinked away tears. Seth pushed his hands through his hair, his jaw ticked. Booker stood and ran for the bathroom, barely making it inside before vomiting. He came out several minutes later, pale, shaken. A corpse had more color. Seth went to him and the two walked out.
**
“Two hours!” Booker shouted. “This is ridiculous.” He stormed up to the desk. “How much longer?”
“We’re taking Cole upstairs to room seven twenty two,” Ruthie informed him. “But he doesn’t want any visitors just yet.”
“What do you mean? Why not?” Booker demanded.
“Don’t kill the messenger, Booker,” the nurse scowled.
“Sorry, Ruthie.” Booker stepped back.
“It’s okay. I know you’re worried. We all are. Cole’s a favorite around here,” she pointed out.
The double doors opened and two techs rolled Cole out on a gurney. “I’m more than capable of walking. This is ridiculous,” he complained.
“Sorry, Doc. You know the rules,” said the tall, gangly man pushing the bed.
“Cole.” Everyone but me rushed the gurney, saying his name simultaneously. They were his family. I stepped back to give them room.
“What’s going on? Why the MRI?” Seth asked.
“You know doctors. Overkill,” he said. He was lying. His eyes carried a heavy burden. Something was wrong. The lie hung in the air like a bad stink. No one believed him, judging from the grim expression each face carried.
“Where’s Lilah?” He twisted around, searching for me.
“I’m right here.” I waved from behind Booker.
Cole held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me in closer. “I’m okay. Stop worrying.” He caressed my face. I nodded bravely though I was anything but. “I’m exhausted, but I want to see you. Will you come early tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.” I didn’t dare say more.
“I love you,” he said. I leaned over and kissed him softly. “Hey, I said don’t worry.”
“’Kay.”
Cole looked at Booker as he said, “I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t think the guy would go nuts.”
“No big deal. You need to stop worrying also,” he said firmly. “I hate to be rude, but if I don’t get settled in my room in the next ten minutes I’ll miss dinner. And it’s tuna casserole. You know how much I love tuna.” He hated tuna. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He drew my hand to his lips, kissing it again.
I smiled as they rolled him away. We stood watching in almost complete silence until he entered the elevator and the doors squawked closed.
“He’s awake and talking, that’s good.” Maggie broke the deafening silence first.
“His coloring wasn’t all that bad,” Seth grinned weakly.
“I’ve got to go.” Booker stormed off. Seth followed.
Maggie looped her arm in mine. “Come on. I’m making shrimp scampi for dinner. It’s a new recipe and I need an unbiased guinea pig. Seth tells me everything I make is good.” She laughed.
“I have plans. Maybe another time.” I pulled my arm free and grabbed my purse.
“Lilah, please come over. You shouldn’t be alone right now. We don’t know anything yet,” Maggie all but begged.
“I know. I’m okay, really. I’m going home and not thinking anymore tonight. I’m exhausted.” We exchanged hugs and left together, running into Seth at the front door, minus Booker.
“Is he okay?” Maggie asked.
“He feels guilty. You know how he gets.” Seth shook his head. “He thinks he can save the world sometimes.” Maggie hugged him.
Seth turned to me. “Maggie’s making some scampi for dinner. Come on over and have some,” Seth said with a smile. “It’s good.”
“How do you know it’s going to be good? I’ve never made this recipe before,” she pointed out.
He encircled her in his arms. “That’s easy. Everything you make is good.” He gave her a kiss. She smiled, her eyes glowing.
I left as they playfully debated Seth’s lack of objectivity over her cooking skills. I went straight to my apartment and spent the evening wishing my father would call. I’d keep him on the line this time if it killed me. This needed to end, now.
Chapter 30
Cole
“Good morning.” Lilah stepped softly into my room, her elbows pinched tight against her frame. She glanced apprehensively at me and smiled. Her beautiful brown eyes were red. She’d been crying. I bolted from my chair and crossed the dank hospital room in two strides, clenching her to me. She broke down in my arms.
“Lilah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I stroked her back, kissing the top of her head. “Everything is going to be fine. I just needed time to think. I’m a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”
“Overwhelmed by what? They found something in the CAT scan, didn’t they?” She tipped her head back and stared into my eyes.
“Yes, but it’s not a big deal,” I assured her.
“It’s not a big deal?”
“No, not really.”
“Cole, you’ve had me worried sick. I didn’t sleep at all. I spent half my night thinking you were dying, and the other half willing my father to call so I could keep him talking long enough for Booker to trace the call. And now you’re telling me it’s no big deal?” She smacked me on the chest and pulled away. Snagging a tissue from the box, she blew her nose before shoving the tissue into the garbage can.
“Come sit,” I said, settling on the lumpy hospital mattress and tapping my hand on the bed next to me. Lilah carefully sat down and leaned into me. She took my hand and interwove our fingers.
“Yesterday, a patient in the ER went a little crazy. He bolted out of bed and tried to attack a nurse. Fortunately I reached him first,” I began.
“Fortunately for the nurse, not you. Booker said the guy knocked you over and you hit your head.” She sniffled a couple times.
“As it turns out, it was very fortunate f
or me.” Lilah looked up, her features etched with worry again.
I stood, walked to the door, and closed it. I took the hard plastic chair by the door, set it in front of her and sat down again, taking both of her hands in mine.
“They did a CAT scan and they found a small mass, emphasis on small.” Her hands tensed and she shook her head. “They decided to do an MRI and found a tumor in my right temporal lobe.”
“Temporal lobe?” Her voice cracked.
“The temporal lobe is where memories are stored. Also, that’s where we get speech . . . and emotion.”
“You think this is a good thing? Because I’m not seeing it that way.” She stood and stomped over to the window. “Not good,” she muttered under her breath.
I went to her, putting my hands on her shoulders as she looked out at the trees, though I don’t believe she was focused on anything outside. “It’s a good thing, Lilah, because one of the signs of this type of tumor is clumsiness. I’ve been clumsy my entire life, so I doubt I’d notice an increase.” I laughed. She remained stoic. “The tumor is very small, and to have discovered it this early means I have an excellent prognosis. The crazy guy in the ER yesterday actually saved my life.”
“You didn’t have any other signs?”
“I have had several headaches lately, but—”
“But you figured they were because of my lies, so you didn’t heed them,” she said softly.
“Truthfully, I assumed they were from the stress of my new assignment in the ER. They started right after my promotion.”
Lilah turned, biting her lower lip. “So now what? Are they going to operate?”
“On Friday they’ll go in and remove the tumor.”
“And that’s it? The end. Nothing more?” She pressed. “If that’s the truth, then what was it you had to think about, Cole? If it’s really that simple, why did you have me and your friends wait to know what was going on? I’m guessing you haven’t told Maggie or anyone else yet.”
I shook my head. “I’m going over there after we talk. And you’re right. There is more. The tests were inconclusive as to the tumor and how much of the lobe is involved.” Her eyes widened as she drew away. “I’m not going to die from this, Lilah.” I pulled her back to me.
“Then what? What does the tests were inconclusive mean exactly?” she said into my chest.
“Because the tumor is in the right temporal lobe . . .” I took a deep breath, “and there’s a chance it will interfere with my memory. Long and short term.”
“No,” she said, her eyes flaring. “You won’t be able to practice medicine anymore?”
“Maybe, though amazingly enough, that’s not my top priority anymore. Thanks to Booker, I won’t have to worry financially, although I’d hate not being able to practice medicine again. I really love my job. But my concern is losing my memories . . . of you. Your fun, your passion . . . your love. You’ve changed my world and I don’t want to go back to dull and boring ever again.”
“You could forget me?” she asked, sorrow filling those eyes I loved so much.
“I don’t know, and won’t until after the surgery.” I stepped over to the night stand, picking up a notepad. “I spent the night Brain Gaming this and I have an idea.”
“You Brain Gamed your tumor?” Lilah asked incredulously.
“Yes. Come on, you should have known I would,” came my reply. “Opie, remember?”
“What exactly is there to Brain Game about this, Cole?” she asked, her voice heavy in frustration. She paced aimlessly to the window and back to me again.
“In case I do suffer some brain damage . . .” That set the water works in motion again before I could finish laying out my plan. She collapsed onto my chest as sobs racked her small frame. Note to self, don’t use the phrase “brain damage.”
“Lilah, sweetheart, this is just in case. The chances of me suffering br—ah, problems are small. That being said, you know I’m a planner, right?” She nodded against my chest. “Well, I just want a backup plan if by some remote chance I forget some things.”
“Like me,” she stated, grabbing another tissue and blowing her nose again. “Okay, what’s the plan?” She plopped down on the bed, folding her arms over her stomach. Her chin wobbled as she held back tears.
“I want to make a series of videos of us doing things, like reading Shakespeare together, maybe I can get some footage of you painting, or biting that lip of yours.” She smiled ever so slightly. I’d take it, no matter how small. Anything was better than seeing pain on her face. “Then, no matter what happens, I’ll have the memories and can look back at them. Maybe they’ll help me to recall everything.” I didn’t tell her that there was a chance my emotions might be messed up after the surgery also, and that I may not love her anymore; or worse, not care either way. The very idea of forgetting my love for her suffocated me. I finally found a woman who filled my world, and I could very well not care about her after the surgery.
“We don’t have much time. When’s the surgery?” She looked down at her watch.
“Not ‘til Friday.”
“But shouldn’t you go in now?”
“No, Friday’s good. The surgeon, Dr. Maxwell, said I should . . . she feels Friday will be fine.” I didn’t dare repeat her exact words, “Get things in order, Cole, just in case.” Not unless I wanted to see Lilah in full meltdown mode again. “That gives us a few days to make the videos. I spent most of the night figuring out how to use this,” I waved my phone, “so we can get started right away.” I held out my hand to her and she wrapped both of hers around it as we left.
Many of the nurses avoided eye contact with me. Of course, they all knew the seriousness of what was going on. A few smiled weakly; some teared up. People handle things so differently, which was why I decided not to mention that the tumor may be cancerous. No sense in freaking everybody out. Not yet, anyway.
Lilah and I agreed to meet at Applegate Park in an hour. I needed to talk to Seth and Maggie first. I called Booker and he agreed to meet me there. I chuckled as I pulled up to the house. The POC Mobile was already parked in the driveway.
Taking a deep breath, I entered the house that felt more like a home to me than my own place.
“Cole.” Maggie rushed to me, throwing her arms around my shoulders. “We’ve been so worried,” she said, her blue eyes tight. She took my arm and led me inside. Seth and Booker, both sitting on the leather couch, stood as I approached the family room.
“Cole, again, I’m so sorry,” Booker said, struggling to keep his voice leveled.
“Actually, your friend probably saved my life.” I walked in and sat in the recliner next to the couch. Everyone sat back down but leaned forward, tight faced. “They found a mass in my temporal lobe. I’m going in on Friday to have it removed.”
Okay, Cole, that was smooth.
Maggie sat back, her face stripped of color, as was Seth’s. Booker shot to his feet and crossed the room, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. No one spoke for several moments as the news sunk in.
“Tell us,” Booker said, turning back to face me, “what’s the prognosis?” He didn’t say cancer. I knew he wouldn’t. He lost his father to cancer.
“My prognosis is excellent. We caught it early, and it doesn’t appear to have spread, but there is a problem. Well, maybe a problem. We won’t know for sure until after the surgery.”
“What kind of problem?” Maggie leaned forward again.
“There’s a chance that by removing the tumor, the surrounding tissue could suffer some damage. Being in the right temporal lobe, it could affect my memory—both short and long term.”
“You’ll forget us?” Maggie said, wiping her palms on her pants.
“Not forget you, more like forget things that have happened. Get-togethers we’ve had may be lost to me. I may forget a dinner here and there . . . which brings me to my point. I’d like to make a few videos talking about old times, just in case I do lose some things.” I glanced over at Bo
oker. “You can call me Doc, tease me about my many bandages,” I suggested. He smiled weakly.
Seth went to a bookshelf, pulling out an anatomy text book from a course he’d taken last spring. I didn’t want him to do that. It’d only upset everyone.
“That’s not all,” Seth said, scanning the pages before I could think of a way to stop him. “That area also regulates things like personality and speech. You may never work again as a doctor.”
“Like I said, we caught it early. I just don’t think any of this is an issue.”
“Then why are we making videos?” Booker snapped.
“Just in case,” I assured everyone calmly.
“Lilah,” Maggie said, half under her breath. “She must be devastated.” Booker rolled his eyes and turned away again.
“I’m not dying,” I said in exasperation.
“Have you called your parents?” Booker asked, staring out the window.
“No. I’ll call them after it’s over and we know more.”
“You don’t think they’d want to know their son has a tumor? Maybe even fly out and be here for the surgery?” Booker insisted.
“Yes, I’m sure they would, but I don’t want them here because of everything that’s been going on lately,” I said, carefully, knowing exactly how Booker would react.
“You’re cutting your family off because of Lilah? Doesn’t that tell you something?” Booker’s face flushed with anger as he spoke.
“Not because of Lilah, Book. Because of her father. I don’t want my family to become targets of revenge in this man’s sick mind.” I took a deep breath, hoping to calm myself. I didn’t want this to end in an argument.
Booker pressed on. “If she hadn’t come here in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Sorry, Book, but that’s not quite right,” Seth interjected. “If you and I hadn’t joined the MET, then this wouldn’t have been an issue. Harry Dreser would’ve come here for revenge with or without his daughter. He simply manipulated her into helping.”
“That’s right.” Maggie stood. “Lilah has nothing to do with her father coming here. If anything, she’s helped us know so you can prepare.”
Unbelievable: The Port Fare Series Book Two Page 25
