Page 112 of Lily In The Valley
Chapter 34
Kelly
The hallway smelledlike antiseptic and oranges, a weird combo that had somehow started to feel like comfort again. We moved in a triangle me, Dr. Sayegh, and Elena. I’d grown to admire Elena in recent weeks. She was sharp, observant, asked good questions without trying too hard to sound like a know-it-all. It was funny I resented her five months ago.
Our rounds had been smooth that morning. A post-op check-in on a six-year-old with a pin removal. A consult for a teen with unexplained bruising. And an impromptu appointment with a toddler that had a stubborn ear infection who kept calling every woman in a white coat “mommy.” I was finding my rhythm again. I smiled when it made sense. I cracked jokes about my terrible handwriting with little patients and their nurses.
We were walking down the hall when Dr. Sayegh stopped, flipping through the last chart on her tablet.
“Kahlia Baptiste,” she said. “Persistent wheezing. History of RSV, no hospitalizations since infancy. Symptoms escalated after a mild respiratory infection two weeks ago. Asthma medicine isn’t working as well as expected. We ordered more testing when she checked-in.”
Elena looked over her shoulder. “Could it be misdiagnosed?”
“Possibly,” Dr. Sayegh replied. “We’re waiting on spirometry and chest imaging. But there’s a chance we’re looking at a developing case of pediatric bronchiectasis. Could also be early signs of a connective tissue disorder.” She turned to me. “What are your thoughts?”
I nodded. “She presented stable but resistant to typical bronchodilators. I flagged the inconsistent response.”
Dr. Sayegh gave me a subtle nod. “Good catch. Let’s check in. Dr. Reid, you’ll present.”
When we entered the room, Kahlia was sitting up in bed, drawing in a sketchbook. She looked up and grinned when she saw me.
“Hi, Dr. Reid.”
“Hey, Little Basquiat. You feeling better today?”
She gave me a shy head nod side to side.
And then I felt it. That slow burn at the side of my neck, crawling up my cheeks and ears. I looked to my left. LaToya stood near the window, arms folded loosely, head tilted slightly like she was trying to figure me out through layers of time. Her expression wasn’t hostile. Neither was it casual. It was curious. Inspecting. Like she’d seen my face from a memory she couldn’t quite place.
I cleared my throat and stepped forward, tablet in hand.
“We’re seeing some signs that point us toward an atypical presentation,” I said, speaking more to Khalil’s mother now. “Given Kahlia’s persistent wheezing, history of RSV, and recent lack of response to short-acting bronchodilators, we’re moving forward with a chest CT today.”
LaToya’s brows creased. “Dr. Reid, I barely made it out of high school. Put that in plain English.”
“I’m sorry.” I smiled. “We’re noticing a few things that aren’t following usual patterns when treating asthma. Because Kahlia’sstill wheezing, has a history of a bad RSV infection, and hasn’t been getting better with breathing treatments, we want to get a clearer picture of what’s going on in her lungs. We’re hoping the CT scan, or detailed X-ray, can help us get a clearer picture.”
Toya nodded her head. “So, it’s not just asthma?”
“It could be,” I replied. “But we want to rule out other possibilities. One thing we’re checking for is a condition where the airways get stretched out and hold mucus, which can cause long-term breathing problems. We’re also looking to rule out anything related to the immune system that could be affecting her lungs. In kids Kahlia’s age, it’s not unusual for these things to show up a little while after they’ve had a big infection.”
“Okay.” She nodded slowly.
“I’ll be checking in again after the scan results are in, but for now, her breathing’s stable and we’re managing the inflammation.”
Kahlia looked up from her notebook. “Does this mean I still have to use the mask thing?”
“For now.” I smiled. “But I promise to find you some good color pencils. Deal?”
“Deal,” Kahlia agreed and smiled, going back to her drawing.
I tucked the tablet under my arm and made a note to return in a few hours. But as I moved to leave, I felt Toya’s eyes still on me. Quizzically narrowed slits that matched my movements. Not watching.
Remembering.
When I returned later on with a fresh pack of deluxe coloring pencils, the floor was hushed. It was a calm that normally descended after dinnertime in pediatrics. I knocked softly before entering.
Kahlia was asleep, her chest rising and falling beneath the knit throw her mother had brought from home. Her sketch padhad slipped from her hands and onto the bed beside her. The light above her was dim.
