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My stomach drops, and I can’t breathe for a moment before her words crash down on me. I let go of Jessie’s hand, then stand and start pacing. “Please don’t do this. I’ve spent the last three months seeing you. I spent a month before that seeing my primary.”
“Carys,” she says in a calm, soothing voice. “I need you to see a rheumatologist. I believe you have lupus.”
I drop down into my chair.
“What?”
Jessie’s hand grabs mine. “Really? Lupus?” she asks.
“Understand that I am not a rheumatologist, and there are a few more tests I believe they will run to confirm my diagnosis. But yes. I believe you have lupus.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I admit in a fog. “What is lupus?”
“It’s an autoimmune disease that’s most common in women and is typically diagnosed between the ages of fifteen and forty-five. It’s not an easy disease to diagnose, but it can be treated. If I’m right, and this is what has been causing you to get sick, you need to understand that it isn’t something that’s curable, Carys. But it’s treatable. You’ll live with lupus for the rest of your life, but with proper treatment, you’ll live.” She picks up a card from her desk and places it inside a white folder. “This is the name of my colleague here at the hospital. I’ve already made a call, and they’re waiting to hear from you.”
She closes the folder and hands it to me. “Call them today, Carys. Don’t wait.”
I stand to thank her, noticing the folder is heavy in my hands as the room starts to spin around me. Jessie steadies me as we say our goodbyes. She doesn’t leave my side as we walk to the elevator with our fingers laced together while silent tears rack my body.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying. I have no idea what lupus is or what it does,” I admit, feeling ignorant.
“Give me your keys,” she demands.
When I don’t move fast enough for her, she places her palm in front of me. “Give ’em. I’m driving you home.”
“What about work?” I don’t want her to get in trouble.
“I’m done for the day. Now, keys please.”
I give her the keys and get in the passenger side of the Jeep. “What about your car?”
“Don’t worry about it. Ford and the guys will grab it for me later.”
I lay my head back against the seat and close my eyes, not sure what to do first.
“Carys, take your phone out. Get the card and call the rheumatologist. Make your appointment.”
She’s right. But it doesn’t make any of this feel real.
* * *
Hours later, I’ve devoured everything I could find online about lupus.
Some of it gave me hope. Apparently, you can manage what they call yourflare-ups.For me, those flare-ups have been the fevers I’ve been getting, coupled with the fatigue and headaches. I haven’t really experienced the joint pain or swelling, but I have had the occasional shortness of breath and a little chest pain. I hadn’t exactly mentioned that to anyone though. But that was why I stopped running. It was getting harder.
From what I can tell, lupus can cause complications with most of the major organs in your body. I stopped reading that part because it was too scary to keep going down that road, and fear is already a driving factor in all of this. The list of complications is long. And there at the bottom... was potential pregnancy.
As if it wasn’t already going to be hard enough for me to conceive and carry a baby with my PCOS, complications of lupus can be dangerous for the baby and me. I slam my laptop closed and throw it across my bed as I read those words.
Increased risk of miscarriage.
Increased risk of preterm birth.
Consult your doctor before getting pregnant.
I’m twenty years old. I’m not ready to have a baby now. But I want to know it’s an option when I’m ready. A baby with Cooper’s blue eyes and blond hair.
My phone rings with an incoming call from Coop, but I decline it instead and curl up in a ball, not ready to talk to him or anyone else.
