"Of course. Five dollars says Wednesday lunch stays put." Her pulse flutters beneath my fingertips, a bit too fast. "I've always been an optimist."
I release her wrist and note the reading in her chart. "The new antiemetics aren't helping?"
"They help for a few hours, then it's back to the races." She watches me record the information. "Still no diagnosis, I take it?"
The question carries a forced lightness that doesn't match the concern in her eyes. Two weeks of tests, and we're still guessing at shadows.
"We're working on it," I say, more gently than I normally would. "The lab is done with your latest bloodwork and the CT scan showed some potential areas of interest."
"Potential areas of interest," she repeats. "That's a delightfully vague way of saying you're still stumped."
I almost smile at her directness. Almost. "I prefer to think of it as methodically eliminating possibilities."
"A process of negation leading to truth. Very Zen of you." The teasing edge returns to her voice. "And very evasive."
I check the rest of her vitals, noting each one in the chart with precision. Her blood pressure is lower than I'd like. The weight loss is becoming concerning—nearly fifteen pounds in two weeks. Her body is slowly turning against itself while we chase diagnostic ghosts.
"Your potassium is low," I tell her. "We'll need to supplement that."
"Will it stop the tremors?" She holds out her hand, which shakes visibly. "They're getting worse in the mornings."
I make another note. "It might help. How's the numbness in your feet?"
"Advancing to my calves now." She demonstrates by tapping her leg. "I can feel pressure, but not temperature. Tested it with an ice chip this morning."
"You shouldn't be conducting your own medical experiments," I say, though I'm secretly impressed by her methodical approach.
"Says the man who's using me as a medical mystery for his team to solve." Her smile takes the sting from the words. "Speaking of which, when do I get to meet these new fellows I've heard about?”
"I'll be bringing the new diagnostic team by later today," I say. "They'll be reviewing your case."
Her face brightens with genuine interest. "Fresh eyes. Fresh minds. Good. Maybe one of them will see what everyone's been missing."
There's hope in her voice, carefully controlled but unmistakable. I feel the weight of it, the responsibility. Cheryl DuBois has become more than just a case to me over these two weeks—not that I'd ever admit it out loud. Something about her reminds me of my mother—what little I remember of her. The same grace under pressure, the same sharp humor masking fear.
"That's the plan," I say, closing her chart. "Four new perspectives on your case."
"Four? My, aren't I special." She adjusts her position slightly, wincing with the movement. "Will you warn them that I bite, or let them discover that for themselves?"
"I think they should experience the full Cheryl DuBois effect without preparation."
This draws a genuine laugh from her, followed by a grimace as the movement pulls at something painful. "How kind of you to provide such an educational opportunity."
I step closer, instinctively adjusting her pillows to better support her back. It's a small gesture, one I wouldn't make with most patients, but Cheryl has a way of dismantling professional distance without seeming to try.
"You should rest before the interrogation begins," I tell her, stepping back once she's comfortable.
"I'll practice my mysterious patient routine," she says, settling against the pillows. "Maybe throw in a few cryptic statements about past lives to really keep them guessing."
I move toward the door, pausing with my hand on the frame. "Try not to terrorize them too much. I need them functional."
"No promises, Dr. Walker." Her eyes, bright with mischief despite her pallor, follow me.
As I leave her room, I can't help but wonder how Dr. Phillips will interact with Cheryl. Two sharp minds, both unafraid to speak their truth. It could be illuminating.
Or completely disastrous.
Either way, I have a feeling today is about to get much more complicated.
