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She turned back to the form. "I know your schedule is chaotic right now, so we'll kill two birds with one stone and have multiple blood tests done."
Multiple blood tests?
I cleared my throat before responding. "I have a training camp coming up. I'll be out of town for a week."
"Another camp? When is it?" Dr. DeLang looked back at me.
"My last camp. It's two weeks from now."
"We should be fine, but get this blood work done before you leave. If anything pertinent comes up, I'll have my office call you."
I blinked a few times and decided to just be out with it instead of allowing the obvious to hang in the air. "Dr. DeLang, why do you want more blood? You think it’s more than just overtraining, don’t you?"
She looked up at me and sighed, then removed her glasses. "I tested for Rheumatoid Arthritis because of the pain you mentioned in your joints, but your numbers look good there." She looked directly into my eyes as she continued. "But with the high protein, dropping red cell count, low iron, joint pain, fatigue… I’d be remiss if I didn’t run more tests."
"What do you think is causing it?"
"I’m not prepared to give you a diagnosis at this time," she evaded.
I grimaced. I had a feeling she'd say something like that. "But you have something in mind. I have the right to
know what you’re testing for."
"Yes, Adrianna, I have a suspicion. But that’s all it is at this point. I don’t want to worry you."
When a doctor tells you they don’t want to worry you, that’s exactly what you’ll do. I scrunched my forehead and angled my brows. I wasn’t going to let up on her. If she wanted more tests, then she’d damn well tell me why.
"Dr. DeLang." I pushed. "Not telling me only worries me more, and considering what I do every day inside the gym, putting me at ease would really help so I don't break my neck from a tumbling pass. Please, what are you testing for?"
She looked at me for a long moment, and I stared right back, not backing down. She sighed, then said, "I’m testing for lupus."
My stomach dropped and I remained silent as she continued.
"The issue with lupus is it can be confused for Rheumatoid Arthritis, but those numbers came back fine. Lupus is great at mimicking other illnesses, and thus can often lead to months and months of testing, trying to narrow it down."
"Lupus?" I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "You think I have lupus?"
"I have nothing concrete at this point. But that butterfly rash"—she pointed at my face—"coupled with your other symptoms raises a red flag. I’d like to run a few analyses on your organs as well."
"My organs?" Chills rolled down my arms. I didn't know how to react, what to say, what questions to ask. I knew I should've been asking something, anything, but I couldn't think straight. "Which organs?"
She hesitated. "Lungs, heart, kidneys. Sometimes lupus can affect them. I want to rule out everything I can."
My heart fluttered. Lungs, heart, and kidneys? "How? Is this a genetic thing?"
"If it is indeed lupus, typically someone in the family tree would most likely have an autoimmune. But you’ve indicated there is no family history of illness or disease. So this is all circumstantial and inconclusive without further testing, and why I didn’t want to worry you."
I nodded my head, mentally flashing to every family member I could think of and if they were sick—Dad, Xavier, Joy… Joy. My lips parted and I averted my gaze.
"Adrianna?" I blinked a few times. "Is there someone on either your paternal or maternal side that is sick?" She softened her voice.
Looking at the bland ivory wall across from me, I licked my lips nervously, thinking about how I would phrase this.
"I…ah… I just found out my mom isn't my real mom," I admitted out loud for the first time since that awful day. "I don't know who my biological mother is." My voice shook, cracking from the unshed emotion I’d been holding in for months now. I didn't want to look at my doctor. I didn't want to see the pity.
Tears filled my eyes. I blinked a couple of times to hold them in. Dr. DeLang reached behind her and plucked a few tissues from a box and handed them to me. She gave me a gentle and understanding smile that only made me cry even harder.
"I'm sorry," I said, blotting my eyes.
