Page 51

chapter thirty-seven

Jillian

T he waiting room at the rheumatologist’s office was unexpectedly calm, with muted lavender walls, a painting of a dandelion, and a fountain in the corner trickling away. No blaring TV or obnoxious smells, and even the other patients were quiet as they scrolled through their phones.

And with my stubborn best friend beside me, it gave me a much-needed sense of peace in that otherwise hectic morning.

Rush, rush, rush. Stress, stress, stress.

When they told me at the front desk Dr. Stroud was running behind and my wait might be a little long, I was somewhat relieved. It was nice to just… sit.

Meghan laid her phone face down on her thigh and cracked her knuckles. “Are you nervous?” she asked when she caught my eye.

“Not really. If anything, I’m worried about just being brushed off again.”

“Want me to come back there with you?” She folded one leg over the other, bouncing her foot up and down. “I won’t let them brush you off. I can fight.”

I laughed under my breath and shook my head. “Please don’t. I’m going to do my best to advocate for myself this time.” It’s what I’d been telling myself for the last twenty minutes: Stand up for yourself. Don’t downplay the pain just to seem polite. Don’t smile through it like it’s fine.

Because it wasn’t.

“Do you promise?” Meghan asked, giving me the side-eye.

“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes with a little grin. “Everyone else is always taking care of me. You. Graham. Makes me feel like I can’t handle my own life without back-up.”

Meghan raised an eyebrow. “First of all, Graham’s going to be a senior citizen in, what, fifteen years? So the roles will reverse and you’ll be taking care of him in no time.”

I glared at her, and then we both smiled.

“And second, so what if you need a little help right now? Weren’t you there for me when my mom died and you literally had to force me to take a shower and go outside?”

I nodded.

“See? Everyone goes through seasons in life when they need a little more support.”

“What if it’s not just a ‘season’ for me? What if they never fix me?”

“Then we love you through it. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m pretty sure Graham would say the same thing. Wouldn’t he?”

I didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at my nails, picking at the corner of one with my thumb. I kept thinking about the way Graham looked at me at the airport, like he was ready to fucking lose it. “I probably stress him out,” I said, moving my hair away from my eyes.

Meghan took a minute to think before responding. “Only because he cares about you so much,” she said. “And everything’s sort of imploding around you guys right now. It’s not your fault.”

“I mean, it’s at least half my fault.”

She tilted her head to the side, agreeing. “Maybe. Do you think you guys will stick it out through this?”

“I don’t know.” I stared at the dandelion painting on the wall, my eyes tracing the gold, glittery brushstrokes. “I hope we do. I really, really like this one, Meg.”

“If you guys stay together,” she said, touching my knee while staring into my eyes like she was about to say something truly meaningful, “you’re going to be someone’s step-grandma.”

I shook my head and swatted her hand away just as the wooden door opened. A nurse in pink scrubs and a clipboard stepped out. “Jillian?”

“That’s you, GILF,” Meghan whispered under her breath. I narrowed my eyes at her, tempted to smack her arm again, but the joke tugged a smile out of me anyway. I grabbed my purse and followed the nurse down the little hallway.

The further we walked, the quieter everything felt. No more water fountain, no more Meghan beside me filling the silence with her Meghan-ness.

The nurse took my vitals, asked a few routine questions, and left me in a small, softly lit exam room with a paper-covered table and one chair in the corner. I assumed I’d be in for another long wait, but I barely had time to check in with Olivia at work before a knock sounded at the door.

The second Dr. Stroud entered the room and greeted me with her warm, gap-toothed smile, I immediately felt at ease. She looked to be in her fifties, with silver hoops in her ears, kind eyes, and smooth, brown skin. Even her voice was soothing as she greeted me. “Hello, Jillian. I’m Dr. Stroud.”

“Hi,” I said, accepting her outreached hand. Her fingers were soft, but her handshake was firm.

She wasn’t holding anything. Not a clipboard, not a tablet.

But she sat on the rolling stool in front of me and crossed one leg over the other, folding her hands on her knees.

“Now, I know you’ve probably explained your symptoms over and over to multiple people before me, but I want to hear your story firsthand.

Describe to me what you’ve been experiencing, and for how long. ”

I took a deep breath, and I told her.

I told her about the dull aches that started years ago, and how I brushed them off at the time. About how it intensified over time, and how stress seemed to worsen the pain even more.

I described how stiff my legs were in the mornings.

I mentioned the way sometimes my shoulders hurt just when they were pressed a certain way, laughing at how backrubs were actually torturous for me.

I told her all about the fatigue and the brain fog that were probably unrelated—but maybe they weren’t?

And not for a single second did I feel stupid or like a rambling hypochondriac. Because she listened, nodding as I talked. Her face scrunched up with a sympathetic frown when I told her about breaking down on live TV.

Once I finally unloaded everything on her, she sat up straighter in her chair and cleared her throat. “So here's where we are. I’m not going to slap a diagnosis on you today, because I want to make sure we rule out everything else first.”

I nodded.

“You sound a lot like my fibromyalgia patients. But one thing to know about fibromyalgia is that it’s a diagnosis of exclusion.

I want you to get answers and I want you to get relief, because I know that’s why you’re here.

But we’re going to get to the bottom of it and make sure we’re on the right track.

You’re going to get real sick of seeing me. ”

We laughed together. “No, I promise I won’t,” I insisted. “I already feel better just hearing that you’re going to try to help me.”

Dr. Stroud gave me a soft smile. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. We’re going to figure this out together.”

“That’s so good to hear.” I could have hugged her. Should I hug her? No, that’d be weird. Don’t make it weird.

“But even with a proper diagnosis and treatment, it doesn’t go away,” she added gently.

“With fibro, your body misinterprets pain signals and keeps your system on high alert when it doesn’t need to be.

Medications, exercises, and even your diet can help, but there will still be some flare-ups.

Hopefully, we can get you on a path to having more good days than bad. ”

That sounded like music to my ears. I nodded again, willing myself not to cry, but tears welled up in my eyes anyway as she continued with the game plan.

And as she stood to leave, Dr. Stroud gave me a quick half-hug and a pat on the back. “Relief is on the way,” she said, opening the door.

I left her office with an order for lab work and an MRI, a prescription to get me started, and something I hadn’t had in a long time: some fucking answers. I wasn’t cured and I didn’t even have a diagnosis yet, but I felt heard. And that was something.

Meghan stood as I walked back into the waiting room, slipping her phone into her bag. “Graham just texted me, and he said to make sure I take you somewhere to eat.”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. My first instinct was to tell her I was fine. That I didn’t need anything else from her. But maybe that wasn’t who I had to be anymore.

“I could go for a cheeseburger,” I admitted.

But as we stepped outside and I let the warm sun hit my face, dread settled into the pit of my stomach again. Because back in Woodvale, there was an intern who could destroy my career—and maybe my relationship—with one sentence.

As I opened the door to Meghan’s car and a blast of hot, stagnant air hit me in the face, the sense of peace I’d felt in Dr. Stroud’s office just minutes ago was already gone.