Page 118 of Meet Me In The Dark
“Okay?”
“Stay and ask him.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I give him full permission to tell you everything. He explains it better than I can. More charts, less crying.”
He doesn’t know it, but I’m testing him. I want to see how long it’ll take for him to bolt because this—me, in a hospital bed, weak and bloated and full of painkillers and pelvic trauma—this isn’t fun. This isn’t flirty or mysterious.
This isn’t sex in the back of his car. This isn’t hot and heavy in his office.
This isn’t even the tension that follows us on our morning runs.
This is the bullshit part.
This is where I expect him to say, “Hey, I’ve got a thing,” and quietly disappear.
I grip his hand a little tighter because I already like him too much, and I’m terrified that when the answers come, he’ll realize just how messy I am.
I must doze off for a few minutes because the next thing I feel is a soft nudge at my shoulder.
My eyes peel open, only to land on a man in a white coat standing over me.
I blink, trying to orient myself.
Julian clears his throat before rising to introduce himself to Dr. Patel.
“Doc,” I say, my voice scratchy, “I’m way too out of it to explain to the man I’m having sex with about this condition, so if you could do me a favor and break it to him gently, or scare him off entirely, that would be great.”
Julian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”
“I mean, do your worst,” I add, waving a hand. “Be graphic. Use diagrams if you have to.”
Dr. Patel levels me with a dry stare. “Are you giving me permission to discuss your medical history, Celeste?”
I salute him weakly. “I’m drugged up, Doc, not incapable of making decisions. Permission granted.”
Then I drop my head back on the pillow and listen as Dr. Patel explains what Julian probably never expected to hear when he walked into this hospital room today.
He starts at the beginning and explains how I went years undiagnosed.
That it began with irregular periods and fatigue.
How the pain grew until it was so severe that it made it hard to walk, let alone function.
He tells Julian that the surgery I had six months ago was successful. The endometriosis they found then hasn’t grown back, but the pain isn’t from that anymore. Something else was missed.
Something called Adenomyosis.
He explains that it’s similar to endometriosis, except the tissue grows inside the muscle wall of the uterusinstead of outside it. It’s easily missed or mistaken for something else, which is why it wasn’t caught before.
It’s a bunch of medical jargon and words I hardly understand, but Julian listens intently the entire time.
He’s still holding my hand.
Still here.
Dr. Patel doesn’t sugarcoat things. My symptoms are severe, and I don’t respond well to hormonal treatments. He tells Julian that I don’t have to make my mind up right away, but the only cure for my condition is a hysterectomy, which means the kids I’m not sure I want are definitely off the table.
