Page 22 of Lovesick
Chapter Ten
Marty
One TV roared with laugh tracks over some comedy show. A cartoon character sang his ABCs on another one across the long rectangular room. The walls were clean and white, strewn with paintings periodically to break up the monotony. Sunlight streamed through the windows. High ceilings rose far above the rows of chairs, and tall plants lived out their days frozen in time in the fake dirt.
I had always hated doctor’s offices. They looked so clean and comfortable, but their nice waiting rooms projected a message that was a lie. Sickness was anything but clean and comfortable. Luckily, though, today I was just here for a checkup, not for anything specific like most of the other people in here were.
I looked back down to the magazine resting on my knees. I hadn’t actually read a word of ‘Motor Trend’ despite the fact that I had been holding it for ten minutes. I had my truck. These fancy sports cars had no practical use, and I had no real interest in them other than to keep me from being bored while waiting.
Luckily, I had Maggie for that.Running errands.I texted in reply to herWhat’s up?message.
Whatcha doing after work tonight?
I glanced around me.Not much. No plans today. Wish you were here so I could have some.
A couple more weeks left in the semester. Then I can drive over and see you.
Even the distant idea of seeing Maggie again put a smile on my face.Just let me know if you get too stressed and need a break.
I can’t afford breaks right now… I can only wish.
We can just sit and cuddle while you work. Half a break.
Don’t make me take you up on that…
I smiled again. “Marty LaFleur?” a feminine voice called. I looked up at a nurse who held the door half open, waiting. My heart sank. I had managed to totally forget where I was. I put my phone in my pocket and laid the magazine on the table. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could leave and enjoy the rest of my day.
“Hi,” I greeted the nurse, determined to be polite.
“Hello, Marty. How are you doing today?” She had that tone of voice all nurses used. The one that had been clearly rehearsed at least a thousand times, but still sounded sweet, sincere and caring. We chatted idly for the few seconds before we got to the open room where they took height and weight measurements. Then she got down to business and started asking probing questions after she moved me to an exam room. In a few moments, the nurse left saying, “The doctor will be in shortly.”
And he was. Dr. Arthur Willamon had been the physician of choice for the LaFleur family for years, and while I wasn’t much of a fan of checkups, I did like him. I stood up to shake his hand as he entered. “Good afternoon, Doctor.”
“Marty! Good to see you. It’s been a while. Which is always a good thing, of course.” We both smiled at his little joke. “How’s Ellen?”
We talked about my family and his family for a moment while he logged into his computer and reviewed the paperwork the nurse had prepared for him.
“Okay, Marty, so why are you here today?”
Down to business. I told him I was just here for a checkup, and the doctor nodded. We continued chatting while he went through all the motions of a normal exam. Then my shoulders relaxed a bit as he sat back in his chair. In just a minute or two, he would be done, and I could be on my way…
“Hey, Doctor. I noticed something on my neck the other day, right…” I reached up and felt for the lump. “Right here. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing, but since I’m here, I thought I would ask.”
“Hm. Let’s have a look.” He felt the lump, pressing directly on top of it and around it. “Okay, Marty, let me ask you a couple more questions.”
Doctors asked two kinds of questions: nonspecific and specific. When they asked nonspecific questions, they just wanted to cover all the bases and make sure you had a good, all-around checkup. The specific questions, though…that was when you could tell something was off. They never said anything - probably not wanting to cause alarm or jump to conclusions before they had a solid diagnosis - but the questions gave away that they felt something was wrong.
These were specific questions. These were questions about how I had felt lately and my habits - particularly my drinking habits. I almost started to hedge down the number of beers I consumed in an evening but stopped myself. As I had told Maggie, I felt fine, and I didn’t feel like I drank excessively - not for me, at least.
“Okay.” Dr. Willamon entered a of couple things into the computer. “Marty, I think it would be wise for you to have a biopsy. I can’t tell just by looking or feeling what this lesion is, and it could be nothing - or it could be something. We need to be safe here and schedule a biopsy, preferably right away. Do you need me to explain what a biopsy is?”
“No, I know what it is,” I managed, my lips suddenly dry. “Uh…let me look at my calendar. I’ll call and schedule one as soon as I do that.”
“Okay, but don’t wait. Check your schedule today and get that biopsy set up right away. I’ll send over the referral, and they’ll look at your records and get you in just as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” Dr. Willamon waited as if he expected me to ask him what he thought might be wrong. When I didn’t say anything, he stood up, his usual cheerful self, and shook my hand before leaving.
I stopped briefly at the desk while the receptionist copied my insurance card, then rushed out to my truck. A biopsy could be for…anything, really. My mother had gotten one a few years ago, and it had turned out to be nothing at all. I didn’t doubt that when I walked into mine, and it would turn out to be nothing serious.
