Page 30 of Adonis Gates
“No crazy,” she laughed. “I’m not thinking about men right now.”
“Naw yo’ ass ain’t thinkin’ about them period. Fuck you mean?” I playfully spat. “You gon’ take ya lil’ vacation for however long, but when you come back it’s up with us. I don’ waited too fuckin’ long for this shit.”
“I can only offer you friendship, Adonis.”
“For now, that’s cool. I know you gotta heal from the bullshit that bitch ass nigga took you through. I respect that, but that ain’t gon’ stop me from tryin’. I let him be the reason I didn’t apply pressure for you long enough.”
She didn’t reply right away, but that was cool. I wasn’t tryna be another nigga in her life that controlled her movements, I just wanted my intentions to be known. I’d wanted her for too long to continue prolonging the inevitable. She was gon’ be mine sooner than later.
We chilled for a little while longer, finishing our food and that dumb ass movie she convinced me to watch before I decided it was time for me to go. It felt good laying up with her in that small ass bed. It felt right.Too fucking right. I wanted to allow her the space and time that she needed because whenevershe touched back down in the city, I was pressing the gas full throttle.
Chapter Ten
Jruelle.
I sat on the crinkled white paper that covered the examination table thumbing through Pikz. I needed something as a distraction. The sterile white walls always made me feel smaller somehow. My hand was instinctively pressed against my lower stomach as if the familiar ache was asking to be addressed.
The nurse had already run through the checklist; weight, blood pressure, questions about pain—now I was just waiting to see the doctor.I hated this part. The quiet before the door opened. It gave me too much time for my mind to wander and linger on the things that were out of my control. That was why it was imperative for me to busy myself.
A light knock on the door jarred me from my thoughts and had me quickly locking my phone and putting it away.
“Hello, hello.” Dr. Parker spoke and smiled as she entered the room. “How’ve you been feeling since the last time I saw you?” she asked me as she approached the stand on the far wall where the computer was.
“Same old.” I answered giving my usual shrug. “Some days are good, some are bad. Today’s the former.”
She nodded before what I assumed was typing in her credentials since she began pecking on the keyboard and clicking around on the screen with the mouse.
“Your pain logs show that you’ve marked more bad days this month compared to last. Tell me about that.”
“It’s not worse, not really. I just…” I paused briefly to find the best way to describe what I was feeling. “I noticed more. Maybe I’m finally paying attention instead of pushing through it.”
“Good. That’s what I want you to do—pay attention,” she nodded. “Living with endometriosis has a way of making you normalize the pain, but what you experience is more severe. Let’s talk about your pain management plan. You’re still on your hormonal therapy we started six months ago. How’s that going? Any side effects?”
“Nothing major.” I lifted one of my shoulders in a shrug. “Just the mood swings which my sister would probably say were worse than the pain.” I tried joking, but my voice fell flat. I could tell because she gave me a sympathetic nod.
“That’s not uncommon. We have other options, but that depends on what your priorities are—symptom control, fertility down the line, overall quality of life…”
The word fertility sat on my chest like a thousand-pound weight. I tried maintaining my poker face, but my stomach twisted in knots. I trained myself not to think about my future in terms of starting a family or, hell, getting married, but coming to these appointments always forced those thoughts to the front of my mind.
I adjusted a little on the paper covered table before responding, “I just… want to function. I don’t want to keep having to cancel plans, miss work… pretending all together.”
“Understandable,” she nodded. “We could try switching some of your medication or maybe add something for breakthrough pain. Another option could be laparoscopicsurgery to clear the scar tissue, but that’s something we’dreallyneed to talk through. It’s not a cure but it could help.”
My gaze dropped to my hands as I thought about what she’d just said.
Surgery.
I’d read stories, watched Cliqued Clips, reading and listening to whether or not the procedure was actually worth it, and the hope that sometimes felt like a trap.
I chewed on my bottom lip before looking at her and saying, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” She smiled. “For now, let’s just adjust your prescription and schedule your follow-up. And Jru,” she reached to touch my hand. “Don’t downplay what you’re feeling. It’s valid. Okay.”
“Okay.” I answered lowly in fear that if I was too loud she’d hear my voice cracking.
She left the room, and the nurse came back to put in the new prescription as well as schedule my next appointment. I left the office after that, feeling like I was finally breathing again once I was outside. Being in the doctor’s office was suffocating because in there I faced a reality that I did my best to bury in the back of my mind.
I headed to the pharmacy to grab my prescription after leaving my appointment. My dad’s car was already loaded with my suitcase, so after handling that I headed to the airport. My drive was packed with overthinking and over analyzing. My mother had begged me to stop tormenting myself and listening to all of the social media stories from women who had a journey similar to mine. She meant well, I knew that, but she had no idea how I truly felt and what I was dealing with. Sure, she didn’t have biological children, but that was by choice. My journey was different because I’d always wanted a family, especially after not being wanted before they came into my life. I just wanted toexperience what it was to have a blood relative, other than Geri, love me unconditionally.