Page 12 of I Knew You
Kallie’s departure left the house without warmth or sparkle. I retrieved my fork from the sink, rinsed it off, and dug it back into the velvety chocolate cake. I ate, leaning over the counter, seeking the numbness I wished bingeing on the cake would give me.
When I came to my senses and my stomach started to protest, I wiped the fudge from around my mouth with my fingers and went to the fridge to retrieve the milk carton. I picked it up to find it almost empty, which triggered hot tears to fall down my cheeks.
I’d been so wrapped up in my quest for comfort via food coma that I didn’t realize I’d still been holding back my emotions. My heart squeezed. My anxiety climbed.
I had to think of something besides food to calm my nerves. I was prone to panic attacks, and it had been one hell of a depressing day. Spiraling was imminent. I drank the last sip of milk straight from the carton, threw it in the trash, and washed the chocolate off my hands in the kitchen sink. Taking a deep breath, I blew my nose with a paper towel, grabbed a can of diet soda, and walked over to the small desk in the corner of the living area.
I was unsure if doing this would help or hurt, but I had to try.
I opened the lid of my laptop and exhaled slowly. The document of my newest project popped up on the screen. Although I may have worked in marketing for a book publishing company for years, I really wanted it to be my name on the front cover of the books.
I was halfway through my target word count, trying to figure out how to incorporate some new ideas I’d been carrying around. I strived not to dwell on my syntax’s imperfection,even though “the imposter monster” threatened to rear its ugly head. Instead, I let my fingers strike the keys with abandon, words flowing better than I could imagine. My heroine schemed to take down evil bosses and fight corporate greed.
If I had nothing to help me process all the changes, memories, and pain, I always had writing. As complicated as it was to navigate, it had always been my greatest consolation.
I retreated into my pretend world and characters and felt my reality narrow into fantasy.
Chapter Two
Julianna |September 18, 2024
The next morning, I found myself sitting in a familiar patient room, my foot tapping nervously against the white-tiled floor. I stared blankly at faded paintings of birds on the wall opposite me.
“Julianna?” Dr. Billingsly poked his head through the door after a couple of courtesy knocks. I smiled as he entered. Dr. Billingsly’s mustache and the thin glasses on his nose twitched as he cleared his throat. “How are you today?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m doing okay. How are you?”
He and I had done this same song and dance since I’d moved to Charlotte more than a decade ago. I could read him well, so I knew something was off when his gaze averted.
“I’m fine.” He rolled a small stool over and sat down right next to me with his tablet. Both things were new. “Let’s talk about your MRI results.”
A cold flush ran over me.
“Okay. What’s wrong?”
“I will be frank with you. Your luck has run out. Your scan revealed that two discs have significantly shifted since last year. They have herniated and are pressing against the nerves in your spine.”
I watched numbly as he brought up the recent images of my back on the tablet to explain where things were wrong. My increased pain hadn’t been lying to me. Fear washed over me as the reality of what he was saying settled in.
“You will need surgery to remove the part of the discs pressing on the nerves. As the herniations worsen, they will press on the spinal cord nerve bundles more, which is going to cause either increased numbness or extreme pain, perhaps even immobility. It’ll come upon you quickly.” My breath hitched. These were facts I already knew, but knowing something and having it happen were two different occurrences.
He continued, “In your case, with the degeneration speed and the fusions you had done years ago at play, worsening could happen at any time. So your surgery needs to be a priority. Within the next couple of months.”
I was wringing my hands in my lap as I spoke. “Are you sure? You’re sure this can’t …heal?”
“I am sure. You’re welcome to seek a second opinion elsewhere, but the proof is right here in the scans. I am sorry, Julianna.”
A lump formed in my throat.
How could this be happening just when I was about to lose my health insurance?
“Is there any way to get it done within the next two weeks?” I whispered, trying to keep the tears from spilling. He smiled slightly under his mustache as if I’d made a joke, his face full of empathy.
“Well, no, I’m afraid not.” He dipped his head for a moment and then looked me in the eye once again. “There is anotherslight administrative issue with the surgery aspect of this. I am retiring at the end of this month. Your care will be transferred to Dr. Shaley.
“However, she will not begin until January 2, so there will be a gap. There are some legalities and such that won’t allow us to schedule surgery with her until she’s officially started. But I feel like that might be pushing it with the timeline. You need to be scheduled for surgery no later than November.”
I’d never been without Dr. Billingsly’s expertise. Panic settled in. I trusted him. November was so close. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away. I could not break down in the doctor’s office.
