Page 16 of Shame

Chapter Six

Cora

Monday mornings have always sucked. Not because it’s the day I go back to work after having one off, but because everything always goes wrong. I have a perpetual case ofthe Mondays.And yes, I wish it were Sunday.

This Monday is no different. In fact, it’s possible today is the worst Monday ever.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

The doctor nods, scooting his stool-on-wheels closer to where I am sitting. Dad is up on the exam table, staring at the wall like it’s got him in a trance. His head is slightly tilted as if he’s listening to it speak.

"Your father has coronary artery disease, Cora. This means the arteries supplying blood to his heart have become narrowed due to a buildup of plaque.”

Disease is never good. I’m assuming it’s really not good when it has to do with the heart. I’m not knowledgeablewith medical stuff. It’s all gibberish to me. I try like hell to remember everything going on with Dad already, and it’s hard enough to keep up with all that. Now there’s something new? Something worse?

“Is it serious?”

The doctor gives me a sympathetic look and nods.

"It is, yes. When the arteries are narrowed, the heart doesn't get enough oxygen-rich blood, which can cause chest pain, especially during physical activity or stress. Your father is stressed often, due to the Dementia. CAD can also lead to more severe issues, such as a heart attack.”

“Oh my god…” The words leave my lips, and I don’t mean for them too. My eyes fall closed, and I focus on breathing. What more can this poor man handle?

There’s a soft, warm arm on my shoulder, which has me opening my eyes.

Doctor Anderson is close enough I can see the dark blue swirls in his otherwise crystal blue eyes. They’re full of kindness and understanding. He’s young, not much older than me. Hasn’t been a doctor for long, but he’s great at his job. At least, as far as bed-side manner goes.

Could he be wrong? Should I get a second opinion?

“There is a procedure that we recommend,” he continues.

“A procedure?”

“It’s called angioplasty. We insert a small balloon into the blocked artery and inflate it to widen the artery. Then we place a stent, which is a tiny mesh tube, to keep the artery open andensure proper blood flow to his heart. This will help reduce his symptoms and lower the risk of a heart attack."

Reduce means it isn’t a sure fix. Just possible. How big of a procedure are we talking? Are they cutting his chest open? Something done with a robot? I know they can do that nowadays, but is this something like that?

I hate that all of Dad’s medical stuff has fallen on me. I don’t know anything about any of this stuff, and I don’t have anyone to ask. We have no other family. I have no friends. I’m not cut out for this. Why did I think I could do this?

Take a breath.

I take a deep breath, then ask, “Is this dangerous? Are there risks? What if we don’t do the procedure?”

“Like any medical procedure, there are some risks, including bleeding, infection, or a reaction to the dye used during the procedure. There's also a minor risk of damage to the artery. However, angioplasty and stenting are generally safe, and the benefits of restoring proper blood flow to the heart typically outweigh the risks.” He sighs, folding his hands together. “Cora, without this procedure, your father’s disease will likely worsen. It increases his chance of having a heart attack, and there could be frequent chest pain. It’s possible he’s been experiencing chest pain for a while now, and that’s why he’s been so irritable."

I glance at my father, who slow-blinks but doesn’t take his gaze from the wall. Why is it he’s always so calm at the doctors? No matter which doctor we go to, he’s like this. Well-behaved. A perfect angel. I feel like they don’t believe me when I explaineverything he does at home. Like I’m one of those people who fake illnesses on loved ones to get attention, as if I’d want to deal with all of this. I don’t want attention from anyone! Never mind if it’s for reasons like this.

My god, have people really thought that about me?

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. More issues with Dad aren’t what I need. Not now—not ever. I was grateful when I was named his healthcare proxy, knowing there is no way he could make decisions for himself, but the stress is… well, it’s overwhelming. I should have gone with a court-appointed one, but what do they actually know?

“How long do I have to decide?”

Doctor Anderson smiles and gets to his feet.

“Take your time thinking this over. It’s a big decision. But I will say that if we’re going to do the procedure, it’s best to do it sooner rather than later.”

He offers his hand out and I shake it after getting to my feet.

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