Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Scarlet Stone,” the nurse calls my name.
The air reeks of disinfectant and the temperature is much cooler than necessary. The setting supports my belief that humans go to the doctor to die, not to live. If they’re going for the modern-day mortuary feel, mission accomplished.
I giggle. The timing is terrible, but I can’t help it. I imagine the nurse saying, “Scarlet Stone, we’ll fit you for your coffin now.” Maybe the cancer has spread to my brain. At least I could blame my crazy thoughts on that instead of having to completely claim them as my own.
“Let’s get you weighed, and then I’ll have you deposit a urine sample in this cup and place it on the shelf in the restroom.”
The nurse frowns at my weight. How professional of her.
I wee. Find my room. Undress. And sit on the folded gown.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Yes,” I respond.
The doctor enters with his head down, focused on his electronic tablet. When did bedside manner become optional?
“Scarlet, I’m Doctor—” He looks up, then down, then turns.
“Sorry, do you need help with your gown?”
“Nope. If your medical degree is legit, then I don’t think my naked body should be an issue. Don’t act like you’re not going to ask me to recline back and spread my legs.”
“Ms. Stone, it’s protocol for you to—”
“Protocol schmotocol … I’m not hitting on you. I simply think the paper-gown peekaboo game is utterly ridiculous. Let’s just get on with this.”
I can’t explain my behavior, because I’m not a nudist. The only good reason I have for making this poor man feel uncomfortable is Theo. Since he tried to dismiss everything between us, I’ve sort of run out of give-a-fucks.
He turns and clears his throat.
However, it is quite ironic how I’m the one who feels most vulnerable with that stupid gown on, yet he’s the one who is clearly uncomfortable without me wearing it.
“So you’re here to … check on your cancer?” His finger traces along the screen, repeating my Reason For Visit verbatim.
“Yes.”
“I don’t have any of your medical records. Have you had a cancer diagnosis?”
“Yes.”
“Well, without your records, I can only run through standard procedure: physical exam, blood and urine tests—”
“Give me your tablet.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t—”
I hop off the table. There are probably not enough days left in my life to learn to play by the rules, but that’s what I’m here to find out. He steps back until the wall meets him. I’m seriously questioning his medical degree.
“You can’t do this,” he protests as I snatch the tablet from him.
“I’m here to check on my cancer…” I access the internet “…and you need my medical records…” my finger eats up the screen, making haste with my mildly-illegal hack into my own medical records “…so I’m getting you my records so we don’t have to reschedule and wait for all the … protocol to be followed. Things run much more smoothly when we look at rules and laws as recommendations. Helpful—or sometimes not—suggestions.”
“Ms. Stone, this is completely un—”
“Here.” I hand him the tablet.
He smooths over his dark hair and adjusts his thick round glasses before he takes the tablet. I ease my bare bum back onto the table and fold my hands in my lap while he reads in silence for several minutes.
“How do you feel?” He finally looks up with a deep line of confusion along his brow.
“Amazing. That’s just it. I haven’t felt this good in…” I shake my head “…forever.”
“Any pelvic or abdominal pain?”
I shake my head.
“Bloating?”
“A bit when I first arrived in Savannah five months ago. It was mild and disappeared within a few weeks.”
“Loss of appetite?”
I shake my head.
“Urinary issues such as increased frequency or urgency?”
I shake my head.
He releases a long breath, eyes moving across the tablet again. “Back pain, menstrual changes, fatigue, pain during sex?”
I continue to shake my head.
“You’re below normal weight for your height and age.”
“Weight charts have been adjusted over the years to normalize obesity, especially in children. It’s truly disturbing. I’m not underweight.”
I don’t share that a little over two months ago I was very underweight. Something tells me he wouldn’t understand the health benefits of liquid fasting. Conventional medicine frowns upon anything that doesn’t come in the form of a prescription.
“I’m not an oncologist, but I can say the progression and symptoms of cancer can be different for everyone, especially with ovarian cancer. We’re not going to know anything definitive until we do a few tests. Then you can meet with an oncologist to discuss further treatment.”
My name is Scarlet Stone. I think modern medicine is miraculous—as well as overrated, corrupt, and sometimes deadly. I’m not sure when doctors began to focus on treating the symptoms instead of the root cause of disease. Whenever that was, they could no longer abide by their oath to “do no harm.”