Page 67 of Carnal Urges

“Wait, Nancy. Start over. What is it called again?”

“Immunoglobulin A deficiency. IgA for short. It’s a genetic condition passed down from your parents.”

Breathe in for a count of four. Hold for a count of four. Exhale for a count of four.“But I don’t feel sick. Other than this stupid brain clot, I feel fine. I’m in perfect health. I have no symptoms of illness.”

“Most people with the condition have no symptoms.”

“Is there a cure?”

“No.”

Great. I have an incurable disease. At least a pregnancy would be over in nine months.“So what is it, exactly? What am I dealing with?”

“IgA is an antibody that’s part of your immune system. When you’re lacking it, you’re more prone to getting infections. The condition also seems to play a role in asthma, allergies, and autoimmune disorders.”

Confused, I frown at her. “I don’t get infections. And I don’thave asthma, allergies, or an autoimmune disorder. Or any other disorder that I’m aware of, except an unusual affinity for kale.”

She says casually, “Oh, only one in four people who have an IgA deficiency develop any health issues. It’s a silent condition that doesn’t cause any problems for most.”

I can’t be hearing this right. Didn’t she just tell me I had an incurable disease?“It doesn’t cause problems for most people?”

“Correct.”

“But if it does cause problems, I’m looking at stuff like… allergies?”

“Possibly, yes. Or more frequent colds, things like that. And, as in the case of your false-positive pregnancy test, it can interfere with certain blood tests.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

My voice rises. “So it’s not going to kill me?”

Nancy is shocked. “Goodness, no.”

Exasperated, I throw my hands in the air. “Do you think you could’ve started with that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I did.”

“No, Nancy. No, you did not. You were all ‘incurable’ this and ‘genetic condition’ that. I thought I had cancer!”

“You don’t have cancer.” She pauses. “At least not at the moment.”

“Okay, we really need to work on your bedside manner.”

“I’m simply trying to be medically accurate. At this moment, you don’t have cancer.”

“But if I did, it wouldn’t be caused by the IgA thing, right?”

“Right.”

When I don’t respond and only sit staring at her, she turns and quietly leaves the room.

I lie down on the bed, my central nervous system in overdrive. Between the brain bleed, the pregnancy scare, and Nancy’s ineptdelivery of the news about the IgA, I’ve got an excess of adrenaline flooding my system. Still, I somehow manage to fall asleep.

When I wake hours later, sunshine is streaming through the windows, and Declan is sitting in the chair beside my bed.

Staring at me with a strange, unwavering intensity.