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"Yes," I said, and stood.
I followed her down the hallway and around the corner to a patient room. She placed my file on the countertop, then reached into a cabinet and pulled out a specimen cup.
"The bathroom is across the hall," she directed.
Within a few minutes, I was back in the room with a cup of urine. The nurse put on a pair of gloves and took the sample from me. She uncapped it, stuck a paper strip in it for a few seconds, then took the strip out and placed it on a paper towel before removing her gloves. She checked my blood pressure and temperature, then said, "The doctor will be in with you shortly."
The rising anticipation while waiting for the doctor always sucked and filled me with trepidation, leaving me to overthink every negative outcome.
I must've heard the doctor walk past the exam room at least seventy times before she tapped on the door and walked in all bright-eyed and cheery-faced.
"Glad to see you, Adrianna, and at a reasonable time." Dr. DeLang smiled.
"I know, and I'm sorry about that. My schedule is hectic with training," I said apologetically, realizing that's no excuse.
"How have you been feeling since you were last here?"
"Fine, honestly. Nothing new to report, nothing less. I feel the same as I usually feel—tired, sore, drained—but that comes with the territory." I hesitated, then said, "I think I may have reinjured my Achilles at camp, or just tore it a little more, I'm not sure, but it's not that bad. Nothing I can't handle."
"You should definitely have it reevaluated, even if you aren't having any issues, just to be safe."
"I'm okay. I'm being careful."
She walked over and placed her stethoscope to my chest and listened to my heart and lungs for a minute. "Careful can only take you so far," she said when she stepped back. "Considering you're training like a pro athlete, you shouldn't be taking any chances. If you make it past this season without completely snapping your Achilles, I'd say you have a guardian angel watching over you."
I swallowed, and nodded to myself. She was absolutely right. I should have it checked just to be safe, but between all the blading and plasma injections I'd had, I didn't feel it was necessary. The sessions helped tremendously, and I always felt brand new. I figured I was just overworked and worn out from camp.
Dr. DeLang took a moment to look over the urine strip on the paper towel before discarding it and washing her hands. She sat on the stool in front of the counter and flipped my file open. "Let's go over your test results, shall we?" She made a note before continuing. "Your pregnancy hormones came back negative."
"Pregnancy?" Jesus Christ! What the hell? I hadn't had sex in ages.
"It’s standard procedure to check the levels in most menstruating patients, even if the cycles are off."
I stared at the doctor with wide eyes. Pregnancy had never crossed my mind since I took Plan B.
"Tell me about that rash on your face." She flipped a few pages in my chart. "When did it start?"
I brought my fingers to my cheek and grazed over the redness I thought I'd concealed this morning. "I woke up with it actually. I thought maybe I had an allergic reaction to something."
Dr. DeLang ran her finger down the page and frowned. "The last time you were here you mentioned your coach pointed out a rash on your cheeks." She looked up at me. "Is this the first time the redness has reappeared since then?"
I chewed my lip and nodded. Truthfully, I’d thought it was the wine since I didn’t even eat, but I couldn’t tell her that.
She eyed me for a minute before returning her focus to my file. "Your iron level came back low, and your red blood cell count has dropped even more. Your urine tested positive for protein again, only higher this time."
"Is it all the Motrin?" Those little orange pills were my lifesavers, but now I wondered if they had done more bad than good.
"Highly doubtful. You’re running a temperature today, and your blood pressure is elevated."
Huh. I didn't feel like I had a fever. Other than being tired from camp, I felt fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"I’d like to run a few more tests." She opened a drawer and pulled out a lab sheet.
I frowned. "More tests? Why? I feel fine." Oh, yeah. My blood pressure was spiking by the second now.
"It could all be attributed to overtraining. But I’d like to check a few things." Her hand skimmed over the paper, marking off boxes. She paused and angled her head to the side, her eyes staring at me above the rim of her black, bold glasses. "Do any diseases run in your family that you might have forgotten about the last time you were here?"
My heart was about to jump out of my chest. "D-diseases. N-n-not that I’m aware of. I don’t know." I shook my head.
