Millicent: 7 (illness scare)

The Scare

I shouldn't be this short of breath. That was all I could think as I took a seat at the mall, pretending to look at my phone in an attempt to look normal, but I didn't feel normal. This wasn't the first time, but this was the most noticeable. I crossed my legs, pretended to be waiting on someone, but the only person I was waiting on was myself.

Five minutes, ten minutes—my heart won't stop pounding. My head was starting to swim, and I knew I needed help. I needed someone to help me out to my car, like some sort of sick person. Was I a sick person? I could blame it on skipping breakfast, but then people would try to feed me, and food didn't help. This was something else entirely.

I sighed as I put Facebook away and opened up my Contacts. Bailey was the third number—Ed was first, and Muffy was second. Chip was fourth, but only because he'd moved away. Right now this was a Bailey moment, and I knew he could save me.

"I'm…I'm in the mall…across from the shoe place. Need help," I whispered, feeling breathless. Bailey gave me his usual response, "Right away, Madam," and I knew he was coming. He'd be there soon.

I went to move my arm but found it tied down, or it least it felt tied down. Suddenly a hand was there holding it down, so I knew this was important. I also realized I wasn't at the mall anymore.

My vision cleared, revealing sterile white. I was in a hospital room. A television was blaring Spanish programing from across the hall. Through the wall behind me, I heard a man cough.

"Mom?" Muffy whispered.

I looked up to her. She was the hand holding me down. She looked terrified, so I tried to smile and put on a brave face, "I'm fine, sweetie."

"Why did you pass out? Bailey found you in the middle of a crowd of people. They wanted to get an ambulance, but he brought you here in record time, and…. Mom I'm so scared," she whimpered.

"I'm sure it's nothing, just anemia or dehydration, something simple," I said, looking up as a nurse entered the room with a soft knock. After checking me over, she disappeared out the door and returned with a doctor. He looked just like the ones on television, except his accent was indecipherable and his nose was filled with hairs that stuck out, dancing while he talked.

After introducing himself, he asked who Muffy was. I looked to her, "This is my daughter. She was just going to get herself some coffee, weren't you, dear?"

"Yeah…sure," she said, walking away. I withheld a sigh of relief. I knew the doctor was about to ask questions, the way doctors do, and he was going to order tests and get concerned.

"Has this happened before?" he asked.

"Yes and no. I've felt light-headed, but this was the first time I passed out. I was so out of breath," I replied.

"Any other changes?" he inquired.

I had lost some weight, and I couldn't do stairs at work anymore. Grocery shopping was becoming a pain, so I was pretending to be too busy so Bailey could do it instead. I canceled plans, I skipped activities—I was living half the life I used to live thinking I was just tired.

So they agreed to do tests. A phlebotomist arrived and took several vials of blood. I almost passed out again as the blood left me, but they assured me I was fine. I was on fluids and had oxygen, things that went with me when it was time for the CAT scan they ordered.

When I was reunited with Muffy, she looked me over, "You haven't looked well for a while. Did you think you could hide that from me?"

"I wanted to try," I shrugged, "You're my baby girl. I wouldn't want to worry you."

"Well I'm terrified, not worried. Mom, you passed out. You could've hit your head. What if you were driving? What's making it happen in the first place? Have they said?" Muffy asked quickly.

"No, but I haven't been here long. They'll probably keep me the night, observe me, and give me the results as they get them. I'll know soon, then we'll get over this. I probably need iron supplements and B12 shots. Your grammy needed them when she got to be my age. She just couldn't keep enough iron in her blood, so it was necessary," I smiled.

"But Grammy was older than you when that started, a lot older than you," Muffy argued. She sniffled, "She was sixty-five, maybe seventy. She died a few years later—"

"From liver disease from all the brandy she drank throughout her life, nothing to do with her anemia. She was old anyway," I interrupted, looking up as Bailey entered the room with Ed, who doted on me so much that Muffy was pushed to the back of the room. She remained there as Bailey paced the halls outside.

Sure enough, they forced me to stay overnight, and while Muffy wanted to stay with me, I made sure I was alone. I had to process this myself, figure out if I could really handle a serious diagnosis. Anemia was one thing, but what if it was really something else? Could I really survive cancer if I was already this sick?

Early the next morning, I was awakened by two doctors entering the room. They introduced themselves, but their names were too foreign to remember. At least they kept better care of themselves than the doctor before.

After saying a bunch of jargon I didn't understand, they confirmed I was deficient in many areas, including B12 and iron, which caused the anemia I was suffering from. The other deficiencies were likely causing other issues, and they were concerned as to how the numbers got so low.

"You'll need prescription-level supplements until we get this sorted out," the first doctor said.

"So I'll have some extra pills and shots. Nothing to worry about, right?" I smiled.

The second doctor shook her head, "When your body goes without certain things for so long, organs can fail, then organ systems, then the body itself. You're too young and have no history to reflect these numbers. We must do more tests."

"When can I go home?" I questioned.

"This afternoon, as soon as the paperwork is complete," the first doctor said.

That was enough to appease me. I alerted Bailey, who agreed to drive Muffy over that afternoon to retrieve me. While I waited on the release paperwork, I was introduced to many new faces, and I also received instruction on how to do my supplements, not that I needed the help. I thanked everyone all the same, but I was glad to be home.

"Mom, it's been three weeks. Shouldn't they know something by now?" Muffy asked with a dark tone as we looked through the blouses at a swanky boutique downtown. It was her favorite place, so I thought that could help improve her mood. I was wrong.

"They'll know when they know, but it's not my liver or kidneys, nothing like that. I feel much better with my supplements. Look, I'm out shopping again," I smiled. I didn't tell anyone about almost falling in the shower because of another episode, or that I had backed out of a charity walk because I knew even a few thousand feet was too much in the hot summer heat.

Muffy glared at me. I laughed, "What's that look all about?"

"You're sick and you're playing it off like some game! You think we don't even notice, that you're actually tricking us into thinking you're better. Well you're not better! If anything, you're getting worse!" Muffy exclaimed.

"Keep your voice down. The whole world doesn't need to know my business," I hissed sharply.

"Well someone should care. What if this is something really major? I don't want to lose you, okay? You should be making a bigger deal out of this," she said, putting back an item she'd picked out, "I'm taking you home. You look pale."

"I'm fine," I said, but she was right. I'd been dizzy since that morning, and being out shopping wasn't helping anything. I let her drive me home, and I let her lecture me. Besides, I had a follow-up appointment with my doctor the next morning. I could put up with a little more of her brutal stares until then.

The doctor sighed heavily, "Well, Millicent, I'm afraid it's not good news. I've got a referral here to confirm my suspicions, but your numbers are not improving. In fact, you're almost more anemic than when the hospital admitted you."

"Referral? Bad numbers? I don't understand. What do you think is causing this?" I asked.

He looked up with a cold gaze, "Have you had any pain in your body, anywhere at all?" he asked.

"What kind of pain?"

"Sharp, maybe a dull ache somewhere you've never had it before? Something you never really think about, but it's always there?" he clarified.

I thought for a moment, "My ankle always acts up in the morning, but I've sprained it so many times."

"Well, the referral is for an oncologist, the best in the business. We have to rule out bone cancer before we try any other treatments—"

"Cancer?"

"I think it's affecting your counts. Blood starts in the bones, and from there—"

"If that is what this is, what's the survival rate?"

"You'll have to speak with the specialist. It depends on every case, but I think we caught yours early if you're not having any pain," he said.

I left the office with a referral and more paranoia than I'd ever had before. Bone cancer? I wanted to know what my chances were, but I knew not to do that Google search. Nothing good could come of it. Plus my oncology appointment was two weeks away. That had to be a good sign, right?

All I knew is that I couldn't tell anyone, not even Bailey. No one could know this was where I ended up, this was the path I might be taking. No one could know until I had no choice.

After a visit filled with tests, as well as a separate visit to an outpatient facility for a complicated scan, I was finally meeting with the oncologist to know my fate. Six weeks had gone by since I first passed out, and everyone was asking questions. People were starting to notice how many events I had canceled, and anytime Muffy was home, she shot daggers in my direction. I was doing my best to take care of myself, but I still felt light-headed and sluggish. The supplements weren't helping. Maybe my doctor was right—

"Mrs. Crosswire, good to see you again," the doctor said, shaking my hand firmly, "I've looked over your scans, and everything is good. Your bone density is concerning in places. You're very young to have that sort of degeneration, but the PET scan was negative."

"So I don't have cancer?"

"You do not. I'm referring you to an arthritis specialist to look into your density levels and see what could be happening there, but I found nothing of interest in your reports. When this part is negative, there's usually an underlying condition or a missing dietary component. I saw on your chart that you're on supplements, but maybe your body is struggling to process them. You could have a digestive condition, for example, that prevents your body from getting as many nutrients from your food. There are many possibilities—"

"But we can figure this out, and it's not cancer," I smiled.

"Exactly," he agreed, sending me on my way.

Now that I was cleared, I had more vigor than before, but I was still worried. I had to get this sorted out before Muffy stared a hole straight through me, not that I blamed her. I felt bad for keeping her in the dark, but she was nineteen. What could she know about healthcare? What could she do to make me better?

After a few messages, I met with her at her favorite downtown sushi place. When we were finished ordering, she looked me over, "You still look awful. How much weight have you lost?"

"Such a rude question—"

"Mom, I'm serious. You look skinny, too skinny—"

"I'm fine, okay? We're checking off the boxes, figuring out what this isn't. Medicine isn't magic. You'll understand that when you're older," I smiled.

"But you're sick!" she hissed.

"And you're worrying too much about it. Yes, I still have problems, but I know what it's not—"

"Well what did you find out then?" Muffy spat.

"It's not cancer—"

"Cancer?"

"It's not cancer," I repeated, nodding to her, "We're checking off all the boxes. They were concerned about cancer in my bones, where blood is made, but it was negative. I had a full-body scan to be sure. I had a bone density test as well, so I'll be going to an arthritis specialist—"

"Arthritis doesn't make you pass out," Muffy said fiercely.

"No, it doesn't, but we're getting there. I'm okay. Soon I'll be back to doing everything I did before, but we've got to get this worked out. My primary doctor is working on a referral to a digestion specialist to see if that's the problem—"

"So you've been throwing up and haven't told me?"

"No, I'm missing vitamins and minerals, aren't I? If something is keeping me from absorbing from what I eat, then I need to have it replaced somehow. We will figure this out, and I'm tired of the attitude from you about this. I'm your mother and you should show me more respect—"

"You should stop pretending this isn't a big deal! Mom, you could've died, and you think this is some game—"

"I've been dealing with this on my own because I know it's serious!" I hissed. I shook my head, "All you've ever thought about is yourself from day one. Well it's not all about you, okay? I've kept things to myself because I knew you'd be worried. That's a selfless act, what a mother does for her daughter. You should appreciate it. You didn't need to know about the cancer visit before I went. No one did. I didn't tell a soul so no one would worry."

"Not even Bailey?"

"Not even Bailey or your father or Chip. No one knew but me," I whispered, taking a sip of my water, "I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"You should've told someone. That's too much to keep inside," Muffy gasped, "Mom, you can trust me!"

"Not the way you've acted lately. I did it alone, and I'll continue. I'll let you know any results," I said, gesturing to the waiter for my check. I left Muffy alone and returned home. I knew she'd be upset, but I couldn't keep her in the loop, not until I had a proper diagnosis.

Ed shook his head, "All this time you had this—"

I repeated the name of the disease to him, but he still couldn't say it on his own. I grinned as Muffy shook her head too. Neither of them could pronounce it, but that was okay. Now that I was on the right medicine, I felt like myself again. I still needed supplements and shots and other things, but I was finally getting my numbers up. I was no longer wasting away.

Muffy sighed, "Well did it have to take six months?"

"Only a few hundred people worldwide have this disease. Six months is a blessing," I said, grabbing my wine glass, "I told you it would work out in the end. All you had to do was trust me."

"But you're so sick—"

"Not anymore, Muffy, not anymore."

~End

A/N: This is my second entry for the 10x10 challenge. For more information, see my profile. Note that I'm doing this challenge in a month, but you can take however long you need.

Also, I kept the disease nameless because I'm not in a position to do research, but I know rare diseases like this exist. That being said, please take care of yourselves. There are people who love and care for you and want the best. If you're having an issue, get it checked out. Also thanks for reading.