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For two days the toilet water had been a deep crimson color and I didn't know why. At first I thought I’d gotten my period early since it was so irregular, but using a few tampons confirmed that wasn't it. Naturally, I searched the internet, but most of what I’d found said it was related to my kidneys, which didn't help settle my mind. After learning about Francesca, and my doctor’s concerns, plus my internet research, I was sure I had every autoimmune disease I’d read about. But I didn't feel sick, at least not worse than what I usually felt. Sure, I had some aches and pains, but I figured those were from the training camp.
My head was a tangled mess and I was being screwed from seven different directions.
"Hey, Adrianna," Dr. DeLang said politely as she knocked and walked in. A tall man with a weathered face followed behind her. He had to be at least ten years older than her.
"This is Dr. Kozol," my doctor introduced him as he reached over to shake my hand. "He’s a colleague of mine I asked to come in and consult."
My brows bunched together and my heart instantly kicked up a notch. Why would my doctor need to bring in another doctor?
"Hi," I responded hesitantly, then immediately looked at my doctor.
Dr. DeLang took a seat behind her desk and placed a folder down, while the new doctor pulled out the chair next to me.
"I see the rash has subsided for you." My doctor smiled at me as her gentle eyes took in my face.
"Yeah, it's not bad anymore, thankfully."
I eyed the new doctor, not liking his presence. A team of doctors was never good and could only hint at something more serious.
I turned my attention back to Dr. DeLang. "So I found out some family history since the last time I was here." I offered.
"That's good news. Such as?"
"My mom was a twin, and her sister had a type of diabetes, I can't remember which one, plus another autoimmune disease." Dr. DeLang gave Dr. Kozol a quick glance. It was a signal, like a confirmation, and my stomach dropped.
"She has two autoimmune diseases? Do you happen to know the name of the other autoimmune?" Dr. Kozol asked, leaning forward in his chair.
The hair on my arms rose. I didn't like the peculiar tone in his voice. "Mixed Tissue she said."
Dr. Kozol pulled a small notepad from his coat pocket and scribbled something down, while Dr. DeLang flipped open the file folder on her desk. A lump formed in my throat. I didn't like either one of their reactions. I was ready to stand up and demand answers when Dr. Kozol cut off my train of thought.
"How old is she?" he asked, brows at a deep angle.
"She died…" He made a note in his little pad. "She was twenty. They said it was due to the diabetes."
"Hmmm. That helps." Helped what? What the hell was going on? He didn’t give me any other information, just went straight into his next question. "And your mother?"
"She's healthy, nothing wrong with her." I looked at Dr. DeLang. "She said she's checked often."
"How are you doing overall?" my doctor asked softly.
I dug my teeth into my bottom lip and shot a nervous look at Dr. Kozol before looking back at her. "Well…the last couple of days I started to notice blood in my urine." My ears turned warm, embarrassment sloping down the bridge of my nose. It was the first time I’d voiced that out loud and it made my pulse thrum with actual fear.
Her face didn't move, didn't express a thing. "Every time?"
"The last two days it's been almost every time. I think there was a time before that it may have happened once, but I can't remember."
"Any other issues?" She flipped through a few pages in the folder and circled something.
I started to shake my head no, then paused. "My back is killing me."
"Where on your back?" I pointed to the place below my ribs and Dr. Kozol made another note, then sat back in his chair and studied me.
Dread formed in my stomach. I was sure I was pointing to an organ or three back there. Combined with the blood, it didn't take a genius to know that wasn't good. I stared at my doctor, seeking answers.
She looked up from the file and adjusted the glasses on her nose. "Let’s go over your lab results." She glanced down. "We ran an antinuclear antibody test to check for the possibility of an autoimmune disorder. I also requested the other labs since the ANA can be used to diagnose multiple autoimmune diseases if an autoimmune disorder is present." She paused, and I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to hear the rest of what she had to say, but I had to. "Adrianna, the ANA was positive. You have an autoimmune disorder."
I shook my head, feeling like the diagnosis was shoved down my throat. What did all this mean? That I had what Francesca had? I didn’t understand. Or maybe the truth was that I didn't want to understand.
