A slow smile crept across his face. “Why not? You’ve already taken my jet. What’s mine is yours, apparently.”
Chapter35
BARRETT
The nurse openedthe door to an office with multiple placards in the center that showed all of Dr. Elmond’s degrees and medical licenses.“He’s ready for you.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I stepped into the room. The walls were lined with built-in wood bookshelves filled with medical journals. There were two matching chairs in front of an oak desk. Dr. Elmond rose from his seat, his hand outstretched.
“Mrs. Campbell,” he greeted.
“Barrett,” I corrected. “You’re about to blow my life apart, aren’t you? Why stand on formalities?”
I heard the sharp inhale of the nurse behind me.
“Thank you, Lilith.” Dr. Elmond looked at the nurse over my shoulder. A moment later, she left the room. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. I took a seat and folded my cold hands in my lap and waited.
Dr. Elmond didn’t return to his chair. Instead, he leaned against the edge of his desk. “You didn’t bring your husband. Wouldn’t you like him here for support?”
“No,” I said, not bothering to explain that Sasha was my friend, not my husband. There were enough complexities in my life.
“All right,” he said softly. He picked up a manila envelope and held it up. “These are your scans.” He pulled them out and then flipped them around to show me.
On the left side of my brain was a silver-dollar sized mass lighter in color.
“This is what’s causing your seizures,” he said, pointing to the blob.
“Seizure,” I corrected. “I’ve only had one.”
“So far.” He paused. “You have a malignant glioblastoma. It’s a very aggressive type of brain tumor, and as it grows, your symptoms will worsen. Let me be very clear about this, we are talking about weeks or at most, a couple of months before it’s going to be too late to do anything.”
My body temperature suddenly plummeted, and my hands turned icy. “A glioblastoma,” I repeated through numb lips.
“Yes. You’re going to need surgery to remove it, but due to the placement of the mass, it’s unlikely I’ll be able to extract the entirety of it. I’ve been studying the scans and contacted colleagues at the top of my field, and they concur with my assessment.”
The room began to spin, and I quickly reached out to grasp the arm of the chair, squeezing the wood with every bit of strength I possessed.
“Barrett?”
I sucked air into my lungs. “Give me a moment. I just need a moment.” My heart thumped in my chest, loud and fast. “All right. Tell me the rest.”
“You sure? I can wait a little—”
“The rest. Please.” I sounded like I was begging.
“There’s a balance between how aggressive I can be during surgery. Because I won’t be able to extract the entirety of the tumor, you will need radiation and chemotherapy. There are some clinical trials with experimental drug therapies which might be a good option. As I said earlier, we need to proceed quickly.”
“You haven’t mentioned my prognosis,” I said, trying to drown out the roar of blood in my ears.
He fell silent for a moment, his shrewd eyes boring into mine.
“Give it to me straight,” I commanded. “I can take it.”
Dr. Elmond paused but a moment and then said, “Even with this course of treatment, you’re probably looking at twelve to eighteen months.”
