I read the results again.
No findings? Not a single one? How is that possible? The woman is ill; at least one of the tests should have proved that.
In confusion, I leaf through the papers.
Suddenly Dr. Franks is beside me. ‘Mhm,’ he grumbles, his eyes on the test results in my hand. ‘Just as suspected, then.’
‘No, that can’t be… that isn’t…’ I stammer, still trying to grasp what could have gone wrong here, and let my index finger glide over the results again.
Thyroid function: within normal range.
MRI of neck and head, thoracic CT, ultrasound of the thyroid— all without findings.
Without findings.The words echo inside me, but I don’t understand them. Don’t want to understand them, don’t want to admit to myself what they mean.
My boss’s expression is suffused with pity. ‘I know working in the emergency room isn’t easy for you,’ he says sympathetically. ‘But you have to leave your own story at home; it must not affect your work.’
‘I was sure that…’ Distractedly, I touch my head, which suddenly hurts. In fact, suddenly everything hurts.
And my forehead is hot.
I have a fever, my pulse is racing.
Damn it, what is happening here?
‘Take a break, get yourself back together,’ he suggests.
‘Yes, I probably should.’ Overwhelmed by the situation, I shove the test results into Dr. Franks’s hand and start running. Anywhere at all. As long as it’s away.
Down the corridor, which is now blurring before my eyes.
Towards the exit.
Out into the open.
Rain is pelting loudly onto the asphalt, the cool air makes me shiver. I stop abruptly under the canopy so I don’t get wet. I pull the coat tighter around my chest, gasp for air, but none comes.
Tears stream down my cheeks—full of sadness, anger, and despair. Because in this moment it becomes clear to me that this damned illness has not only robbed me of my carefree life and shown me that fear can dig its claws in far more deeply than I ever could have imagined.
No, there’s more. Because now it’s also turning me into a bad doctor. Shit, what’s even left of my old life?
A violent sob shakes me. My hand pressed over my mouth, I lift my gaze, look out into the rain, and cry together with the sky for everything I’ve lost.
A figure appears in the middle of the rain. A man. He strolls toward me at an unhurried pace and seems so relaxed, as if the sun were shining wherever he is. He’s wearing a dark blue uniform.
Jaden.
He comes closer and closer, his hands buried in his pockets, his hair sopping wet, a carefree smile on his lips.
Now he lifts his lids, our eyes meet, and I’m sure he sees the tears in my eyes, the despair in my expression, that damned fragility in every fiber of my body.
For a moment we look at each other.
Then he does what I least expected: he motions for me to come to him.
Chapter Ten
JADEN
