AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Esme
I pacethe length of the waiting room, my stomach churning with worry and anticipation. My steps echo against the tile, the sound of my measured strides cutting through the silence, most of the typical noises of a hospital absent here in the private wing reserved for members of the royal family.
Every few minutes, Archie glances my way, probably annoyed by my relentless pacing at this point. But he doesn’t say anything, his concern matching mine as we wait for my brother’s doctor to come out and tell us he’s okay.
After what I saw tonight, I question whether he’ll ever truly be okay again. Not like he once was.
Admittedly, I’ve held onto a tiny glimmer of hope that the doctors misdiagnosed him. After all, they claim multiple sclerosis isn’t hereditary. What are the chances both my motherandbrother would suffer from the same ailment?
I can no longer deny it. Not anymore. Not after watching his body give out beneath him.
Just like my mum.
Not after seeing him blink desperately in an attempt to focus on something, anything.
Just like my mum.
Not after hearing the fear in his voice.
Just like my mum.
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. I’ve never been so damn scared before. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my brother. I’ve never known a world without him in it. I don’twantto know a world without him in it.
“Your Highness.”
I stop in my tracks, whirling around to see an older man in blue scrubs and a white doctor’s coat standing in the doorway.
“Dr. Mills...”
Crossing the room, I extend my hand toward my brother’s neurologist and we shake briefly.
“How is he?”
“Doing better now.”
“And his vision?”
“It’s back.”
I exhale deeply. The tight muscles in my back and shoulders finally release as I close my eyes, the tension that’s been plaguing me the past few hours slowly evaporating.
“He’s not out of the woods yet,” he adds quickly. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the treatment plan we devised for him could take some time to become effective. Three months to slow his progression. Six months to reduce the size of his brain lesions.”
“Brain lesions?” I choke out, shaking my head. Anderson never mentioned having brain lesions before. My fear returns, welling up in my throat.
“It’s fairly common in those with relapsing-remitting MS, like your brother has. It’s what’s causing some of his relapse symptoms. Dizziness. Blurred vision. Slurred speech. Muscle weakness. Even though it can be worrying, we must remember that treating MS is a process. While we wait for his treatment to become effective, there’s a higher risk of more of these kinds of episodes.”
“But I thought he was taking steroids to help control them.”
“He is. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been as effective as we hoped, so he’s agreed to start a more aggressive treatment involving daily steroid infusions at a high dose. He’ll need to remain in the hospital for the next five days so he can be monitored. Afterwards, I recommend he cancel all public engagements for the next two weeks, at a minimum. This will allow his body to get the rest it needs. He’s working himself too hard. He needs to realize he can’t do everything he once did. His body needs time to heal. So does his brain. All this added stress he’s putting on himself isn’t helping. If anything, it’s hurting.”
“I read that stress can cause relapses,” I say.
“There’s nothing conclusive, since everyone handles stress differently, but I can tell you it’s certainly not helping. Anything you can do to encourage him to rest and take care of himself would be extremely helpful.”
I nod. “Of course. Can I see him now?”
“He’s undergoing his first steroid treatment, but I’ll take you to him.”
