Page 20 of Baby Me

The judge would not admit his findings without having him there to quantify them for the court in person. It was a ridiculous circus of events that kept me from my daughter and delayed any possible treatment for her.

Mr. Avery swore up and down in court that we would sue Dr. Markham, his staff, the social service worker, and anyone else who kept me from my daughter and stood in the way of getting her the treatment she needed. When Coral’s foster mother tried to go against them, and take Coral to a different hospital, my daughter was removed from her care as well.

The one thing I didn’t do, that may have sped the process along, was to go to the media as Mr. Avery suggested. There was no way in hell I wanted to do that and put my face out there along with the plight of my child, and abuse allegations, when all it would take was one member of the club, or someone affiliated with them, to connect the dots and a whole new shitstorm would fall upon us.

If I thought it was hard to get my daughter back in my care, and to get her the medical attention she desperately needed, then it would become unfathomably harder if we added a motorcycle club, and innumerable possible baby daddies to the mix.

Finally, Dr. Jenkins made it back to town and when he went to check on my daughter and realized she was no longer on his ward, he started making inquiries that landed us back in court, where finally - FINALLY - the judge listened and got the ball rolling on dismissing the charges against me and allowing my daughter to be treated for the cancer she had, rather than just being watched while the signs of her supposed abuse failed to fade.

It took far too long before I was able to hold my baby again, and even then, it was a bittersweet moment because I wasn’t actually able to hold her tight and love on her the way I wanted due to fear that I might inadvertently harm her.

She looked so fragile. My baby girl, who aside from a few unexplained bruises a week ago, had been healthy when I last saw her was now thinner looking. She didn’t seem as vivacious as usual.

“Oh, my sweet baby girl, I’m so sorry Momma wasn’t here for you for these past couple weeks. I promise to never let you go away from me again, no matter what I have to do to make that a reality.”

A throat cleared behind me and I turned to see Dr. Jenkins enter the room. “Miss Perrish, I’m terribly sorry that everything happened the way it did. If I had known…” He looked away, almost guiltily. “Well, I can’t say I still wouldn’t have gone, as my family was in crisis, but I would have made sure one of my colleagues was more aware of the nuances of the situation. It never occurred to me that Dr. Markham would challenge my findings while I was away. You have my most sincere apologies.”

“The only person who owes me an apology is Dr. Markham. Well, his staff and social services do as well. I just don’t understand how they could have prolonged this when another doctor diagnosed my daughter with…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Acute Myeloid Leukemia.” Dr. Jenkins sighed as he filled in the words for me. “I can almost understand Dr. Markham’s hesitation, since it doesn’t generally appear in one as young as your daughter, but we all know that there are no absolutes in medicine - or at least we should. It was obvious that you were concerned for your daughter, so I’m not sure why he was so adamant that it was a case of abuse - even to go so far as to say I had misdiagnosed your child.” He shook his head.

“Truthfully, I’m not even supposed to speak to you about him, since your lawyer already started legal proceedings and the hospital is culpable in them as well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s clear,” he stated while staring down at my daughter, “that the week’s delay took a notable toll on Coral, though. So, I don’t give a damn what they have to say about me bad mouthing a doctor who caused that delay in treatment with his asinine assertions.”

I offered a weak smile to the man as he went about checking my daughter over. “I know you were reluctant to give the information to social services, but we really could use the father’s information. Either his, yours, or potential siblings’ DNA could be the key to making your daughter better.”

“Can I be frank with you, without ending up in cuffs?”

He grinned, as if I was joking, though I wasn’t.

“I promise, anything you have to say that will help your daughter, is nothing I will judge you for. Definitely won’t be anything I’d call the law for either.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I’m a fantastic judge of character, Davina. You’ve done nothing but fight for your daughter. That’s all I want to do here. Give her a fighting chance.”

I nodded my head and explained my situation. To my surprise, he didn’t judge me at all. Instead, he pulled a stool over, took my hands in his, and talked to me like I was on his level instead of on the lowest rung of the socio-economic ladder while he was miles higher.

“We can have the lab set up to take as many DNA samples as necessary to test for paternity. Actually, we can let them know we’ll be testing potential bone marrow donors and to expect and influx of bikers soon.” He winked at me. “No one else in the hospital has to know that we’re searching for the father. Those men don’t need to know either, if you can convince them to show as potential marrow donors.” He sighed then and squeezed my hand. “The father will find out when the results are done, as we will have to ask him a few questions to see if we can get closer to a good match.”

“So, she really does need a bone marrow transplant?”

“Most likely.”

“Why can’t I do that?”

“We will test you, but parents are rarely a good match. You usually only carry half the markers we’re looking for, and while it may be good enough to attempt in a dire situation, we want to find a closer match, if possible.”

“A sibling?”

“If there is a full-blood sibling, they’re usually the best chance.”

I shook my head once more. “That’s not possible. She’s my only child.”

“Is there a possible half-sibling? They might not be a perfect match but could possibly have more markers than a parent would.”

“It depends on who the dad is,” I stated as my cheeks heated with embarrassment again.

“Davina,” he offered calmly. “Don’t be embarrassed on my account. You lived your life the way you wanted to, and from all accounts, you did so in the safest way possible. Things happen even when we’re being careful. Don’t beat yourself up over why there are possibilities. There are people who simply don’t have a clue where to start, and we work with what we have. No judgements, I promise. I know that’s a hard thing to believe after what you went through this past week, but it’s true.”

---