In This Together

by Patti Berg

  “It’s nearly impossible not to worry or to be afraid. Of course, the only way to ease your mind is to determine what’s going on, so why don’t you tell me about these pains and the bloating you’ve been experiencing.”

  He continued to hold Elena’s hand as she gave him all the details. He had what seemed like a million questions, and when there was finally a lull in the conversation, he took her pulse and her blood pressure, even though the nurse had already done both.

  At long last he sat down and scanned the checklist she’d filled out the first time she’d come to see him a few years ago. “Would you mind filling out another one of these questionnaires before you leave today?” he asked Elena and then turned to Cesar. “You too, if you wouldn’t mind, just to update our records.”

  “Not a problem,” Cesar said, picking up a copy of Woman’s Day magazine and absently flipping through the pages, as if he needed something to do with his hands.

  Dr. Lydell pulled a cloth gown out of a drawer beneath the examining table. “I’d like to give you a fairly complete exam,” he said, ticking off almost all the basics, which Elena admitted to him and to herself that she’d put off for far too long. “Go ahead and change and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Again Dr. Lydell looked at Cesar. “You’re welcome to stay in the room during the exam, but if you’d rather wait outside, that’s not a problem. It’s your choice.”

  Dr. Lydell didn’t wait for an answer. He simply walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  “Are you going to stay?” Elena asked her husband.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Stay.” She smiled. “Please.”

  The exam took far longer than she’d expected, much longer than she wanted, with Dr. Lydell poking and prodding, examining her inside and out, his hands gentle, his voice soft and almost comforting, but she was never more relieved than when he told her to go ahead and get dressed, and he’d be right back.

  As Elena put her scrubs back on, ready to go back to work as soon as the doctor gave her his diagnosis, Cesar grinned. “I’ve never been happier to be a man than I am at this very moment.”

  Elena laughed. “Imagine going through some of those exams once a year, if not more often.”

  “No thanks.”

  Elena was pulling on her socks when Dr. Lydell knocked and came back into the room. He sat on his examining stool, rolling it backward until he reached the tabletop that held Elena’s file. He picked up a pen, flipped open to a blank piece of paper, and made a few notes. At last he looked up at Elena. “I wish I could give you a definitive answer on what’s going on, but I’ll need some lab work and X-rays first.”

  “What are you looking for?” Elena asked. “Anything in particular?”

  “Your symptoms are common for quite a number of things. Let me just ask a few questions and see if we can narrow down the possibilities. Do you drink milk or eat ice cream, or even put a lot of cream in your coffee?”

  “I usually drink one-percent milk, but I use real cream in my coffee and I drink cocoa and the occasional milk shake, with the real thing.” Elena laughed. “I’ve been known to imbibe in ice cream at night too, no matter what the season, but I exercise a lot.”

  “Your weight isn’t a problem, Elena. Not in the least. But there’s a possibility that you could be lactose intolerant.”

  “You mean all the pain and bloating could be from something as simple as that?”

  “It’s a possibility. Of course, the bloating could also be caused by irritable bowel syndrome—IBS for short.”

  “Irritable bowel syndrome can also flare up when you’re under a lot of stress, right?” Cesar asked. “Elena’s been working awfully hard lately, and she’s on several committees, and—”

  “I don’t feel stressed,” Elena said adamantly. “A little tired, and maybe I have felt a bit of stress, but that’s all been caused by not knowing what’s wrong with me.”

  “I think I can pretty much rule out IBS, but I’d still like to do a few tests. I also want to run a blood test to rule out anemia.”

  “So that’s it?” Cesar asked.

  Dr. Lydell shook his head. “I wish I could say it is, but I want to check out a few other things.”

  Elena frowned. “You’re going to tell me what, aren’t you?”

  “I tell all my patients,” the doctor said, smiling. “I’ve never been one to hold anything back.”

  Dr. Lydell pulled out a lab slip, started to check off one test after another, and then looked back at Elena. “Try not to worry too much about any of these tests. I’m basically exploring all possibilities right now.”

  “Such as?” Cesar asked, standing now, leaning against the door and looking at the paperwork Dr. Lydell was filling out.

  “Diabetes. Or inflammation of the bladder.”

  Elena’s frown deepened. “I don’t have a history of diabetes in my family.”

  “And you already said she’s far from overweight,” Cesar added.

  “Exactly,” said the doctor, “but I want to get to the bottom of this, so I’m going to set you up with an appointment to see a urologist.”

  “That’s for the bladder inflammation?” Cesar asked.

  Dr. Lydell nodded and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze grew serious. “I don’t want to worry you unnecessarily, but there is also the possibility of cancer. That’s something you should be prepared for.”

  “No.” Cesar’s face hardened in both fear and anger. “She doesn’t have cancer.”

  Cesar’s words echoed through Elena’s head. She couldn’t have cancer. She just couldn’t. She tried to stay calm, dragging in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “All right, Doctor. Do whatever tests you have to do.”

  “I’ll talk with the urologist today and get her opinion, but I’d like to order an abdominal CT scan. It may take a week or two to get you in for that.”

  “That’s too long,” Cesar insisted. “Can’t we get it done today?”

  Elena slid off the examining table and went to Cesar, taking hold of his hand, trying to comfort him, when she knew he was thinking of his mother and how she’d suffered with the cancer that had led to her death.

  Elena turned to Dr. Lydell. “If we have to go to Peoria or Chicago to get it done sooner, we will. Just please, see if it can be scheduled right away.”

  “We’ll do all we can,” Dr. Lydell said and turned to Cesar. “I know it isn’t easy to hear the word cancer. I hate to confront my patients with the possibility, but it’s better to be blunt than to pussyfoot around. I don’t like my patients wondering why so many tests are being done, worrying that there’s a possibility of cancer when that’s not even on my mind, so I’m up front with everyone.”

  “So you’re not sure?” Cesar asked.

  “No, I’m not. I simply want to rule it out, and if the tests are negative, I’ll let you know immediately to relieve your worries. On the other hand, if the radiologist sees something remotely suspicious, I want to react accordingly and quickly.”

  Cesar’s fingers tightened around Elena’s. “I appreciate that, and I know Elena does too.”

  When Dr. Lydell left the room, closing the door behind him, Cesar wrapped his arms around Elena, pulling her so tight she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. “It’s going to be okay. I know it in my heart.”

  “It has to be okay,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

  Elena looked into her husband’s face and smiled. In spite of her fear, she had to remain strong for Cesar. She had her faith to lean on; he didn’t. “I have too much work to do to leave this world now or anytime soon.”

  “I wish I could be half as optimistic about this as you are.”

  “I already told you that I’ve asked for divine intervention. I know in my heart that God has a plan for me and that, just like you, He’ll be at my side through everything.”

  “I wish I had your faith.”


  Elena cradled her husband’s beloved face in her hands. “I wish you had it too. In fact, I pray for it night and day.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  WEDNESDAY AT NOON, ELENA STOOD UNDER HOPE Haven’s portico, holding on to the wheelchair as she waved good-bye to Eugene Lawrence and his wife. He’d been admitted twelve days ago, and what a rough twelve days it had been. For Mr. Lawrence, the good news was that he was out of the hospital. The not-so-great news was that he wasn’t going home…not yet. Instead, he was heading to rehab for at least a week, where he’d learn how to live with just one leg until he could be fitted with a prosthesis. He’d also asked that both he and his wife be set up with a dietitian who specialized in diabetes.

  “It’s high time I get the disease under control,” he’d told Elena as she wheeled him out of the hospital. “And I want my wife—who’s the best cook on the face of the earth—to learn what’s the best way for both of us to eat. She’s escaped diabetes so far, but it can sneak up on you when you least expect it, and that’s the last thing I want for her.”

  He’d held Elena’s hand for the longest time. “You take care of yourself.” He’d smiled, the morning sunlight twinkling in his eyes. “I’d like to say that I’d love to see you again, but truth be told, I’d rather not make a return trip to the ICU.”

  “You know,” Elena said, at long last letting go of his hand, “almost all of my patients leave saying pretty much the same thing.” She laughed. “I don’t want to see you again, either, so stay well.”

  It was only a minute or two later when Mr. Lawrence’s candy-apple-red 1957 Chevy—a car he’d lovingly restored and had talked about endlessly—turned onto Jeffries Street. When the car and Mr. Lawrence were completely out of sight, Elena spun the wheelchair around and practically ran into Fern.

  Elena smiled. “Good morning.”

  Fern was studying her, her head cocked a bit to one side. “You know, Elena, you’re awfully good with your patients.”

  “Thank you.”

  Elena expected Fern to leave it at that, but she didn’t.

  “I’ve rarely seen you in action, but James has raved about you for years.”

  She was going to blush in a moment—of course, a red face might be better than the dark circles that had become a permanent fixture beneath her eyes.

  “James is sweet, but really, Fern, good friends are supposed to rave about each other.”

  “James might be sweet, but he doesn’t rave all that often. When he does, he means it.”

  Elena looked at her watch, knowing she had to get back to the ICU, and as she pushed the wheelchair back through the sliding doors and into the hospital, Fern walked at her side.

  “Are you here to have lunch with James?” Elena asked, when she dropped the wheelchair off at the hospital volunteer desk.

  “Actually, he doesn’t know I’m here. My mom and I were out and about this morning, and I asked her to drop me off here, so I could surprise him with a visit.”

  “It’s so good to hear you say that.”

  Fern frowned. “Why?”

  “Because you’ve spent way too many years unable to get around much at all.”

  “Or lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.”

  Now it was Elena who frowned. “You couldn’t have done that. It’s not your style.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You’re not that kind of person.”

  Fern slowed. “Mind if I sit down a minute? I’m still occasionally experiencing the sea legs factor.”

  Elena sat beside her. She really did need to get back to the ICU, but it was good to talk with someone who’d had a debilitating illness, someone other than a patient. Someone she just might be able to talk with about her own problems.

  “You know,” Fern said, taking a deep breath, “I used to think that I’d never complain. I thought I could handle anything life—or God—threw at me, but there were times when I’d be home by myself all day, just barely able to move about, when I wanted to scream. And since I thought it would be crazy to do that, I’d just sit and cry.”

  “Surely you talked with James about it.”

  “Yes. And I prayed. But it’s hard for someone to understand what you’re going through, unless they’re going through—or have gone through—it too.”

  Elena knew she’d been feeling sorry for herself. She’d cried too, yet she didn’t want to tell Cesar those things. He already knew she was scared; she just didn’t want him to know how much.

  She’d longed for someone to talk to. Maybe Fern was that person.

  “You know, I was thinking about going shopping after work tomorrow afternoon. Nowhere fancy, just over to Once Upon a Time. Would you like to join me? Maybe we could duck into the Corner afterward and have a cup of coffee.”

  Fern’s face lit up. “You get off at three, right?”

  Elena nodded.

  “I’m not driving yet. I don’t even have a license anymore. But Gideon should be home by three. Why don’t I have him drop me off at Once Upon a Time at three thirty?”

  Elena knew her face must have lit up. Her CT scan had miraculously been scheduled for the next day; and even though the test would be a piece of cake, and Cesar would be there with her, it was the results of that test that had her worried. Fern would understand.

  She only hoped Fern wouldn’t mind listening to her unload.

  “I can’t imagine why you’d want my signature,” James said, as he bent over the end of his patient’s bed to sign the cast stretching from the young boy’s right foot all the way to his thigh. “Don’t you want to save what little space is left for someone more important than me?”

  Austin Peterson shook his head as he handed a red felt-tipped pen to James. “Right now I’ll take any signature I can get.”

  James’s eyebrow rose in a mock scowl. “So I’m not all that important?”

  Austin grinned. “Important enough, I suppose. After all, you’re the one who showed me how to raise and lower the bed and work the TV.”

  So, that’s all he was good for. James chuckled. Austin had been in the hospital for three days now and was going home tomorrow. If he’d been stuck in the hospital at the age of eleven, he wouldn’t have found the nurses all that exciting either.

  “Actually,” Austin said, as James started to sign his name, “I’m in a race with one of my friends. He has seventy-two signatures on his cast and is getting more every day. I need to beat him, so I’m asking everyone to sign, even people I don’t know all that well.”

  “In that case, do you want just my name on here, or do I have to write a clever poem or joke or something?”

  Austin wiggled his toes, something he could just barely do after the car accident left him with a leg broken in numerous places. “Could you draw some dripping blood next to your name too? Or maybe a hypodermic needle, so I’ll remember you.”

  Kids. Can’t live with them, but he definitely didn’t want to live without them.

  James scrawled his name on the cast and had just finished sketching the hypodermic syringe with an extra long needle poking out its end, when his cell phone vibrated. He hastily added a few drops of blood on the cast. “Gotta get the phone,” he said, patting Austin’s shoulder lightly. “See you later.”

  He grabbed his phone from one of the pockets in his scrubs and quickly stepped out of Austin’s room. Fern’s number appeared on the screen. She rarely called him at work and his throat tightened. Was something wrong? Had she fallen, as she had so many times before?

  “Everything okay?” James asked, instantly chiding himself for being such a worrywart.

  Fern’s lilting laughter brushed over his ear. “I’m fine. In fact, I’m downstairs in the cafeteria. Do you have time to join me for a cup of coffee?”

  Suddenly he felt ten years younger, as if the past years living with his wife’s multiple sclerosis had never happened. “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes. Just give me time to sign out.”

  Less th
an ten minutes later, James walked into the cafeteria and spotted Fern sitting next to a window, the bit of sunlight coming through the clouds flashing down on her pixie-style haircut. The small round table was cluttered with papers, leaving little room for the bottle of orange soda Fern was drinking or the cup of steaming coffee and oversized peanut butter cookie James had just bought to stave off his hunger before he could eat dinner tonight.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, after planting a firm kiss on Fern’s forehead.

  “Armed forces recruitment brochures.”

  James shot his wife a whimsical smirk. “You aren’t thinking of joining up, are you?”

  Fern rolled her eyes. “Of course not. My mom took me out to buy a few groceries this morning, and when we passed the recruiting office, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to pick up some information for Gideon. But don’t worry, I’m not doing anything more than that. If he really wants to go to Annapolis, he can do the real legwork, the application process, contacting our legislators to get their stamp of approval. You know, all the hard stuff.”

  James rested his forearms on the table. “Do you think he’s really interested?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we just have to wait and see how much he talks about it. So far it’s just been that one time at dinner. But he’s not the reason I stopped by.”

  “No?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I just wanted to stop by to say hello. I can’t stay long, though.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “My mom’s picking me up in about fifteen minutes. One of these days I hope I can drive around on my own, and not have to rely on others to take me everywhere. Unless, of course, you’re doing the driving, and we’re heading off for a fun weekend together.”

  James wiggled his eyebrows. “Have you been thinking about a trip to Chicago?”

  Fern nodded slowly. “In fact, we’re leaving tomorrow, as soon as you get off work. I’ve made reservations at a hotel on the lake, and I got a really good deal through a connection of Kirstie Scott’s. On top of that, on Saturday we’re getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the Shedd Aquarium that’s courtesy of Kirstie too.”