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She found a window seat at the end of the hallway and sat down. The view differed from the one in her room. From here, she could see the entrance to the emergency room. There wasn’t an empty spot in the parking lot, and she wondered what had brought so many people into the hospital that night. Whatever it was, she prayed everyone was okay.
The next morning, a new nurse came in, checked her vitals, and asked how she was and if she needed anything, and then Palmer’s stomach dropped as a doctor walked in.
“Good morning, Palmer. I’m Dr. Doty Hughes, the chief neurologist on staff here. Dr. Molina and I briefly spoke this morning about your CT scan. How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m okay.”
Dr. Hughes sat in the chair next to Palmer’s bed. “According to the notes, you’ve experienced blurred vision, constant headaches, and dizzy spells? It says here that they brought you in for a possible stroke?”
Palmer nodded and tried to sit up straighter, but the IV in her hand prevented her from doing so.
“How long have you had these symptoms?”
“The migraines started first. They used to come and go once a month or so, but in the past few weeks, they’ve been almost every day. When they first started, I’d have one, but it wouldn’t be bad enough that I had to stop working or anything. The blurred vision started about three months ago, and the dizzy spells every now and again, but nothing like yesterday or the day before. That was a first.”
“It says here you’ve taken Imitrex and Nurtec?”
“Yes, those are recent prescriptions.”
“What were you taking before?”
“Nothing,” she said, and Dr. Hughes looked at her. “I changed my diet, increased my caffeine, sought homeopathic remedies. I’m not a big fan of medicine.”
“I can understand.” Dr. Hughes wrote in the file she had.
“Tell me about yesterday and the possible stroke.”
Palmer cleared her throat. “Did I have one?” she asked. “No one confirmed with me or not, so I’m not sure it was a stroke, but while I was helping a customer, my pinkie seized, and my vision blurred. I could hear my customer talking to me, but his voice felt muffled. He’s a medic and was concerned, but I told him I was fine. The next day, after lunch, I collapsed.”
“What do you remember from that incident?”
“Not much. I remember putting my tea down and feeling nauseous.”
“Are you nauseous a lot?”
Palmer nodded. “Last night’s dinner is the first thing I’ve kept down all week, but then I didn’t eat much of it.”
Dr. Hughes frowned and flipped the previous page back. “They gave you fentanyl in the ER. Did that help with your pain?”
“Very much so. It’s like there was a veil over my eyes, and nothing is muddled.”
Dr. Hughes stood. “We’re going to get you in for an MRI with contrast and move forward with a biopsy to see what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay, what does that mean, exactly?”
“Your CT shows a mass, but we don’t know the extent of it, what it is, or how it relates to your symptoms. An MRI with contrast will essentially light you up so we can see better and give us a more concrete understanding of what’s going on. For the biopsy, I’ll make a small hole in your skull and guide a needle into the mass to take a sample. The procedure is called a stereotactic needle biopsy. This will help us confirm whether the mass is malignant or benign.”
“Are you saying I have a tumor?”
“No, you have a mass, and that’s what we’re going to call it until we know more.”
“And we’ll know more today?”
Dr. Hughes nodded. “We’ll know more by lunch. We’re going to get you down to imaging, and from there they’ll take you to the OR. When I see you next, I’ll have a mask and cap on, but it’ll be me.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Regardless, we’ll have a solution and know how to move forward. I know it’s not a lot of information, but it’s where we have to start. I’ll see you soon.” With those last words, Dr. Hughes walked out of the room, and an orderly and a nurse came in. The nurse unhooked Palmer’s IV and attached the pole to her bed, while the orderly released the bed’s brake pedals. Once given the all clear, the orderly, who didn’t offer her a name, wheeled Palmer out and to the elevator.
Palmer thought about introducing herself, but the person pushing her bed didn’t seem like the chatty type. Besides, Palmer did not know what she would even say if they asked her how she was. “I’m fine, but I have a thing growing in my head” didn’t seem like the right answer. So, Palmer said nothing and kept her eyes closed for the duration of the trip.
