I don’t want to lie to myself, however, so I take a moment to pay attention. Without the nausea that’s been plaguing me lately, I am hungry. Really hungry. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
It’s only when she’s halfway out the door that I sum up the courage to ask, “Has my—um, my boyfriend been here?”
Her brow wrinkles slightly, a crack in her professional demeanor revealing what looks like pity, but she says, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just clocked in an hour ago, so I can’t tell you.”
When dinner finally shows up,I’m so ravenous that I’d probably eat it if it were mystery meat with a side of Jell-O salad. But it’s actually not bad. Bland, but edible. I even manage to wrangle an extra dessert.
I’m licking the spoon to get the last bit of butterscotch pudding when my sister walks in, followed by a doctor.
Esther’s face softens when she sees that I’m awake, then practically glows when she takes in the empty food tray. Before I can ask about Cal, the doctor introduces himself and adds that he and my sister went to med school together.
Good news, I’ll get extra attention. Bad news, they’ll gang up on me.
He checks my chart and talks some medical gobbledygook to my sister, to the point that I have to clear my throat. “I understand that I have a kidney infection. That’s it, right?”
The doctor pulls up a rolling stool and sits down next to me. “Yes and no.” He meets my sister’s gaze briefly before returning to mine, making me feel like a child. “Your low BMI, low blood pressure and heart rate, in combination with your history, have us a bit concerned about how we got to this point.”
Taking in a deep breath, I do my best to tamp down my emotions. Losing it at the doctor will not help. “I understand your concern, but I am not anorexic. Normally, I eat healthy meals, but I was super nauseous the past couple of weeks and had a pretty taxing schedule.” I catch Esther sighing in the corner of my eye, so I turn to her. “I though I was getting a UTI, but I didn’t have time to go to the doctor. I was planning to get it checked out this week if it didn’t get better.”
The doctor listens patiently to my explanation but doesn’t look convinced. “Sometimes it’s hard to tease out what’s really going on when you’re in the thick of it.” He pats my hand. “We’ll have the catheter removed, but I want you to stay overnight so we can monitor your kidney function. Your systems have been stressed, and we need to make sure everything bounces back once we’ve got the infection under control.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I don’t like it, but what am I going to do? He’s in charge.
Esther walks to the door behind him.
“Are you leaving?”
“I’ll be back.”
In the meantime, a nurse comes and removes the catheter and helps me to the bathroom. Despite the fact that they’re pumping fluids into me, I’m feeling a bit dizzy, so I’m glad for the help. She’s getting me settled again when Esther returns. As soon as the nurse leaves, I start in.
“You’re reading way too much into this.”
Esther shakes her head. “Do you not get how serious this is? You’ve stressed your kidneys. You need them. To live.”
Tears spring to her eyes, not something I’m used to seeing, and I’m swamped with guilt. I hold out my hand, and when she takes it, I squeeze hard. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
“You’re damn right you scared me.” A sob hiccups over her words, but doesn’t slow her down. “And if you think I’m going to sit by and watch you try and kill yourself—again—you have another think coming.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. “Esther. I get why this has you freaked out, but I’m not sick like that.”
Shaking her head, eyes on the ceiling, a half-laugh, half-groan of disbelief chokes out of her.
“Es, I swear it’s not the same. I’m not the same person. I ate dinner. They didn’t have to strap me in a fucking chair and pry my jaws apart and force food down my throat.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes wide. “That’s what they did back then?”
“Yes, Esther. That’s what they did. And they made mom and dad feel like it was their fault, which about killed me.” And now my tears have started. “I know… I know I have some problems. But it’s not the same. You have to believe me. I can’t go through that treatment again.”
When she opens her mouth to argue I add, “You weren’t here.”
Tears streaming down her face, she shakes her head. “I know. And I hate that I wasn’t. I hate that I wasn’t there for you. That I didn’t know.” Her head drops like it weighs a thousand pounds, and her shoulders cave in. “And I hate even more that I didn’t know this time.”
“It’s not your fault, Es. Or your responsibility.”
“But I’m a doctor. I should’ve noticed.”
Closing my eyes, dropping back into the pillows, I give in. “Okay, I admit it. I sometimes hide how much I eat or don’t from you and mom. I don’t want you to worry, and I hate to argue about it.”