Page 10 of Coyotes Ever After

Dr. Harlan ignores her question and looks directly at me.

“The symptoms were consistent with long COVID, but Mr. Harrison, you, in fact, have a brain tumor.”

I stare at him, lightheaded. There’s no way he just said what I think he did.

“No, that can’t be right,” Mila argues. “Rest and hydration make him feel a lot better. That wouldn’t be true if he had...that. You need to run more tests.”

“I’ve had three colleagues review all the test results and Mr. Harrison’s medical records and they all agree with me.” Dr. Harlan’s tone isn’t defensive but apologetic.

I nod, my resentment over having long COVID now feeling like a cosmic joke. A brain tumor.

It tracks. Headaches, fatigue, confusion.

“Rest and hydration improved my symptoms,” I say.

Dr. Harlan nods.

“How bad is it? Give it to me straight, I want to know.”

Dr. Harlan looks at one of the other doctors, a middle-aged woman whose name I’ve already forgotten.

“We need to run more tests, including a biopsy. We’ll know more after that.”

My wife scoffs. “I need to know more now. How bad is it?”

Her tone is pissed off, but I know it’s really fear that’s driving her. I squeeze her hand gently.

“If you want my opinion,” the female doctor says, “and again, this is an opinion. I think we’ve caught this somewhere in between early and late. There are no signs it’s spread, and that’s good. We’ll get the testing done as quickly as possible, I assure you.”

“Now.” Mila’s voice wavers with emotion. “I told you money isn’t a factor and I meant that. We’ll write you a check right now. Just name the amount. I want the rest of the testing done immediately.”

“We can get everything done as soon as tomorrow,” the doctor says. “We’ll need a biopsy, more blood work, an MRI and a PET scan.”

I exhale heavily and then laugh. “It feels like I’m on a TV show, listening to you use all these medical terms with a British accent.”

Mila scowls at me, her lips parted like she wants to say something but can’t decide what.

“Mr. Harrison, I imagine you’re in shock right now,” one of the other doctors says.

She looks young—like fresh out of college. Maybe she was a child prodigy or something.

“What are you, an intern?” Mila demands angrily. “Who asked you to be here?”

“I’m thirty-one years old and I’m a neurologist.”

Dr. Harlan clears his throat. “Dr. Cordova is one of our top neurologists, actually.”

“Thirty-one?” I arch my brows. “Never would have guessed.”

“I get that a lot. I have a good skincare routine.”

“For fuck’s sake, can we stay on topic?” Mila snaps.

“Of course,” Dr. Harlan says. “Let’s review the scans so we can tell you what we do know about the tumor and what we still need to figure out.”

“So it might not even be cancer?” Mila asks hopefully.

“We won’t be able to say conclusively until after the biopsy.”

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