Page 61 of Fourteen of a Kind

“Shit. Ella, we cannot discuss this with the family unless she gives permission.”

“I know. How am I going to tell her Uncle Jackson?”

“You’ll need to run more tests first. I have to get to surgery, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head.

I went into the MRI room.

“Well,” my Grandma Barb asked.

“Let’s get Grandpa and put you in an exam room.” I hooked my arm around her.

“An exam room? For what, Ella?”

“I just want to run some more tests.”

She lay on the table while I drew her blood and stared at me while my grandfather held her hand.

“I know that look, Ella. What did the MRI show?” she asked.

“We can talk about that later, Grandma.”

“No!” she snapped. “We will talk about it now!”

I helped her up from the table.

“Let’s go to my office.”

We went to my office, and she and my grandfather sat down.

“The MRI showed brain atrophy.”

“I have Alzheimer’s, don’t I?” she asked.

“It appears so, Grandma.” Tears filled my eyes. “Late-onset Alzheimer’s. But there’s other tests I want to run.”

“No tears, young lady. I mean it.”

“There are medications you can take to slow the progression.”

“I’ll think about it. Curtis, let’s go.” She stood up. “Don’t mention this to my sons. I’ll tell them when I’m ready.” She grabbed her purse and left my office.

My pager went off, and I needed to go down to the ER.

“What do we have, Karla?” I grabbed a pair of gloves.

“Trauma room two. Mr. Jones is a thirty-seven-year-old male with a gunshot wound to the chest.”

I ran into the room. “Mr. Jones, I’m Dr. Ella Kind.” I examined his chest. “I need an X-ray, Doug.”

“X-ray starting,” he said as I stared at the monitor.

“She did it. She fucking shot me!” Mr. Jones yelled.

“Who shot you?” I asked.

“My wife. That’s fucking bitch. I’m going to kill her!”

“The bullet is lodged in the left anterior chest wall. Call the O.R. and tell them we’re coming. Let’s go, people.”

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