Page 10 of Take a Moment

‘I’ve reviewed the results.’ Dr Harlow fixes me with her clinical gaze. ‘Alexandra, there’s no easy way to tell you this. Dr Amani was correct in what he thought he had seen on the scan yesterday.’

‘Which was?’ I suddenly feel uncomfortable with where this conversation is heading.

‘I shall explain so you understand the full picture. Normally we would not do an MRI scan for a concussion. Only a CT scan. Dr Amani was concerned by your account of your fall, notably your double vision. He thought it important to complete an MRI scan and spotted a couple of irregularities – some damage to your brain. We call them lesions.’

‘Some what? What does that mean? Are you telling me I’ve got a brain tumour or something?’

‘No.You do not have cancer, Alexandra—’

‘Well, thank the shining stars for that.’ I let out a premature sigh of relief.

‘What you do have…’ Dr Harlow continues. ‘…is an autoimmune condition called multiple sclerosis. Or MS, as you may know it.’

Chapter 5

‘Sorry… what?’ Suddenly, I feel like I’m trapped in a bad dream. ‘I’m in hospital for a concussion. I just had a stupid fall.’

‘I realise this is a lot to take in,’ says Dr Harlow. ‘In particular, as you had no awareness of your condition. It is generally not diagnosed in this way.’

‘Hang on.’ I stare at her in disbelief. ‘I’m still stuck at…what?’

‘Would you like me to explain some more about what MS is, Alexandra?’

‘No. I want you to make sense. And I want you to call me Alex. Is that really so hard?’

‘Of course. My apologies.’ Dr Harlow seems totally unperturbed by my reaction.

‘This can’t be right.’ I shake my head. ‘I know what MS is and I don’t have it. I’m healthy – well, not right now obviously because I have a cold and a concussion. But normally, I’m busy and active and successful. I have a really good career. I’m planning my wedding. I’m on top ofeverything. How could I do all that if I have MS?’

‘As I said, I realise this is a lot to take in.’

Dr Harlow removes her glasses and sits down on one of the chairs beside me. Her shadow – aka the medical student – immediately follows suit.

‘It’s not a lot to take in.’ I exhale loudly in frustration. ‘You’ve just got it wrong.’

‘I wish we did, believe me. Medical professionals always want to be wrong when it comes to the diagnosis of life-limiting illness. But I am confident of this diagnosis. It is my responsibility to communicate this to you, as well as provide you with the treatment and support you need.’

‘MS is a death sentence. If you’re right, my life is basically over. I can’t afford for you to be right.’

‘That is not actually correct. Your life expectancy is not directly reduced by MS, although secondary complications can be a problem – particularly when the disease is well progressed. It is primarily your quality of life that will be impacted. There is no known cure for MS, but there are some effective treatments available to you. It appears to be in its early stages, and though it is hard to be sure at this point, early indications suggest it to be the relapsing-remitting type.’

‘Right.’ I stare at the blanket covering my legs, unable to deal with any more of this.

‘We will do some further tests to check there is no damage to your spinal cord,’ Dr Harlow continues, oblivious to my need to terminate this conversation right now. ‘And we can only rule out the progressive type once we have monitored your disease pattern for some time—’

‘OK, well thanks.’ I cut her off. ‘I think I’d like to rest now. I’m very tired.’

‘Of course.’ Dr Harlow finally seems to get the message. She and her mini-me stand and move towards the curtain. ‘I understand that you need some time to digest this. I would like to talk to you some more about the treatment and support available to you, but we can do that later. Perhaps with your fiancé there for support?’

‘Thanks,’ I mumble as she pulls back the curtain. The two of them disappear.

I sit in silence for a moment, paralysed into inaction, while my usually pragmatic mind tries unsuccessfully to reboot itself. What the hell was she talking about? How can I possibly have MS? These people around me, they’re sick. Really sick. But I’m not like them. She’s got it wrong. The scan results must have been mixed up or something. I don’t need to understand about treatment and support options. What Ineedis a second opinion.

‘Hi, kitten. How are you feeling?’

I look up from my iPad to see a huge colourful bouquet of flowers with a body and legs approaching my bed.

‘Hey, lover.’ I grin at him. ‘How was work? Am I glad to see you, this place is driving me insane.’

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