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“Dr. Davis?” Lacy poked her head into the room. “You have a call on line one.”
She gave her patient one last smile, then crossed over to grab the phone. “Hello, this is Jillian Davis.”
“Jillian, Dr. Juran here. Do you have some time you could come and see me? It’s lunch time, so I thought you might be able to take a break. I'd like to discuss the results of your MRI scan.”
Dr. Juran? Good grief, she'd forgotten all about her MRI results. Her stomach sank to her toes. She momentarily closed her eyes and braced herself. “I guess this means you can't tell me over the phone.”
There was a slight pause. “No. I don't want you to worry,” he added, “I would really rather see you in person.”
His attempt to lighten the blow wasn't working. Knowing her fate was about to be sealed, she forced herself to speak. “I can come now, if you have time.”
“That's fine, I'm in my office.”
“I'll be right there.” She hung up and let Lacy know she was leaving.
“Are you okay?” Lacy's eyebrows lifted in concern. Her distress must be evident on her features.
“I'm fine,” Jillian lied, not wanting to go into the whole story right now. “I won't be gone long. Page me if you need something.”
Despite her apprehension, she hurried to Dr. Juran’s office. She didn't wait for more than a few seconds before being escorted in.
He rose to meet her. “Jillian, please sit down.”
She did, mostly because her knees went weak.
He resumed his seat and held her gaze. “Your MRI was normal. However, you need to understand there is still a small chance you could have multiple sclerosis or some other auto-immune disorder.
Wait. What? Her MRI results were normal? The flash of relief faded all too quickly as the rest of his statement sank into her brain. “A small chance? Like how small?”
“Five percent.” Dr. Juran, a fatherly man in his late fifties, took one of her hands reassuringly in his. “I would like to do one more test, Jillian. Evoked potentials.”
She tried to keep her expression neutral but inside her stomach clenched. “I heard they’re painful.”
He gave a solemn nod, his gaze apologetic. “I won't lie to you. It is not a comfortable procedure. We can't give you medication to relax you because the purpose of the test is to stimulate the nerves. We can't take away the pain.”
“I understand.” She stared at him. “Do you really think there's something wrong with me?”
He didn't answer for a long moment. When he did, his tone was gentle. “Jillian, as a physician yourself, you're aware there is still so much about the body, specifically the nervous system, that we don't know. Obviously, you have symptoms that are being caused by something. Let’s not think the worst. I've told you before, multiple sclerosis isn't genetic. It's caused by a virus that settles for some reason in the myelin tissue surrounding your nerves.”
“Yes.” She knew that much. She'd read everything she could about the disease when her mother had grown ill.
He squeezed her hand. “Please, try not to worry. We'll run some more tests and keep an eye on you. As long as your symptoms don't get any worse, there's no need to panic. At this point, your symptoms are mild enough to hold off on treatment anyway.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was right. She was making this situation worse than it needed to be. “Alright, I will try not to worry. Five percent is a pretty low number.”
Dr. Juran flashed a smile, his teeth white against his dark skin. “That’s the right mindset. Go out and check with my assistant. She can get you scheduled for your evoked potentials. It will take a week or so to get you in,” he warned. “So be patient.”
“I will. Thank you.” This time would be easier as she really wasn't looking forward to the uncomfortable test anyway. After a few minutes for his assistant to fit her into the schedule for Tuesday the following week, Jillian gratefully returned to the emergency department.
One her way, she stopped in the cafeteria to grab something quick to eat for lunch. She finished her sandwich in less than ten minutes and returned to the arena.
A familiar name on the electronic census board made her frown. Her burn patient, Mr. Perry, was still in his room. The dressing wouldn't have taken that long so why was he still here? She went over to poke her head into his room.
“Mr. Perry, I'm surprised you're still here.”
“It's my fault.” Susan spoke up quickly. “I realized he was overdue for his tetanus shot, so I gave him that first. Then I was called away to help another nurse. I'll get this dressing done right away.”
“It's fine.” Mr. Perry waived his good hand. “I'm okay. Although I might take you up on that offer of pain medicine.”
