Page 14 of Healer
"That can't help. You said so yourself. The Medi-thingy can't do anything about illness in my DNA."
I felt myself frown and lifted my chin so she couldn't see my expression. Younglings in the Alliance underwent a scan while in the womb, and any genetic anomalies were corrected before birth.
Earth medical technology lagged eons behind, but I'd make it a point to keep up with advancements in medical science through their primitive internet. I knew humans were just beginning to research Intrauterine Fetal Gene Therapy techniques.
"What kind of sickness resides in your DNA?" I couched the question as a healer even though deep down, my warrior’s heart raged against anything that would dare harm her.
The protectiveness I felt over this tiny human was... surprising.
Agnes took several minutes to respond.
"I have what's called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis." She said the words as though they tasted vile. "It's sometimes called Lou Gehrig's disease."
"I have not heard of this," I admitted. Granted, I spent little time studying Earth's diseases since most were easily curedwith our medical technology. Injury tended to be the prevalent issue with most humans the Bardaga rescued, and I'd spend hours studying methods of repair for human anatomy.
Agnes leaned down and cupped a handful of the cool water, splashing it over her face. It did little to reduce the redness of her eyes and nose, but it washed the tear tracks from her cheeks. Unable to help myself, I cradled her cheek in my palm. Her shimmering grey eyes met mine, and whatever she found in my gaze seemed to loosen the tension within her.
"Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis is a genetic mutation that affects a person's motor neurons... the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord that control voluntary muscle movement and breathing."
Agnes recited the words without emotion, but her gray eyes wavered with fear and something that might have been longing. I stroked my fingers over her cheek, nodding for her to continue.
"As the disease progresses, motor neurons degenerate and die. When the neurons stop sending messages to the muscles, it causes the muscles to weaken and waste away.
She looked down at her hands, opening and closing her fists several times, followed by a grunt and angry shake of her head.
More water droplets hit me in the chest.
"Eventually, people with ALS lose the ability to initiate and control voluntary movements such as walking, talking, chewing... even breathing.”
Her grey eyes found mine and held. Behind the differing hues running the gamut from dark grey to silver, I saw resolve and strength take hold, but also resignation, which squeezed into a tight band around my heart.
"Right before the aliens abducted us, I'd started feeling the tremors and atrophy in my arms and legs. My prognosisindicated that I'd be bedridden within a year... on a ventilator within two."
"Does it affect your mind?" I asked, knowing that the decline of her brilliant, beautiful mind would be the greatest loss.
Agnes barked a short, hateful laugh. "That's the worst part. Most people with ALS remain able to reason, remember, and understand. They are aware of the progressive loss of function and keenly aware of what their loved ones have to endure to care for them."
"You don't exhibit these symptoms now." While Agnes held most human females' small, fragile stature, she'd proven strong and capable, traipsing through the jungle without complaint, even with those pitiful shoes.
Anges flexed her hands, watching the motion of her fingers with a critical eye. "It's because those aliens put me in the machine that made me physically twenty again. I still feel stiffness in my joints. Before... the first time I felt it, I thought perhaps it was just because I was training to be a surgeon, but now… now I know better."
"Perhaps what you feel is a side effect of your recent capture. The Garoot Healer should have cured you of disease," I offered an alternative explanation... and hope.
Agnes' full lips quirked into a rueful smile. "After going through the machine, I suspect that it restores one's cells back to the moment of optimal health, but it doesn't inherently change a person's genetic code. ALS is hardwired into my DNA. I was born with this ticking time bomb. I just didn't realize….” Her voice trailed off as her eyes focused on the movement of her hands.
"And because of this sickness, you wish to die," I murmured, understanding settling into my soul. I might not like it, but I understood. I'd seen warriors felled in battle, screamingfor death suffering from less injury than the symptoms she described.
"ALS is a horrible way to die." Her eyes clouded over with memory. "There's so much pain." A single fat tear fell from her lashes. "It not only destroys your life but the lives of those around you. My husband left me when I started showing symptoms."
"Your mate left because you were sick?" Fury twisted in my gut. I found myself wishing to visit planet Earth for the first time in all my long years on the Bardaga. Simply to find her worthless mate and make him suffer for causing her pain.
Agnes nodded, raising her gaze to mine. "I never told Emmy or my other friends. I don't want them to know I'm sick."
"Why not?"
The smile that curved Agnes' lips seemed wistful.
"Because I know how wonderful those women are. I know they'd rally around me and want to take care of me. I don't want that for them. I don't want that for myself. The hike when we were taken... it was my last hurrah with the girls. A way to say goodbye. I planned to check myself into a long-term care facility where no one would have to watch me deteriorate, and I…. I could end it when the pain got too bad."
