Everything was foggy from my cluster panic attacks, but Nash kept his hand in mine the entire time as I got checked in, then waited to be called back. Once again, it felt like a time dilation, and I couldn’t tell if things were moving too slow or too quick.But before I could catch my breath, they were calling my name and bringing me back.
The nurses were a little sharp-edged as I was triaged, but the doctor came in quickly. His voice was a soft, soothing kind of rumble, which was a balm to my nerves. I half-wished I’d brought Nash in with me, but if it was bad, I wanted to be able to process it on my own first.
“I’m scared,” I said after going through a brutally honest list of symptoms and events that had been going on for nearly a year and a half. “Can I ask…?” I trailed off.
He looked at me with warm mahogany eyes. “You can ask me anything.”
Licking my lips, I glanced away. “What are the chances this is something terminal?”
His brows were up when I found the courage to look back at him. “Like cancer? Or something else?”
“A brain tumor? ALS? I mean, my symptoms are weird.”
His lips twitched into something like a smile. “They are weird. That’s a great way to put it. And in my professional opinion…”
I held my breath.
“It’s not in your best interest for me to make a guess until we rule some things out.”
Dammit.
“But,” he added, “from what I’ve seen so far, your symptoms match those of FND.”
I frowned. “FN…D?”
“Oh, I assumed you might have known what that was, considering you’re a WebMD expert,” he said with a wink.
“I— Oh. Oh my god, come on. Everyone does it,” I said.
He burst into laughter and reached out, patting my knee. “They do. Relax, Forest. I’m giving you a hard time. It’s Functional Neurological Disorder, and we’ve seen a lot of cases popping up in recent years. There’s no one real reason for it developing, but it can cause a lot of issues,” he said, ticking the list off on his fingers. “Tremors, fatigue, muscle weakness, inability to walk, non-epileptic seizures, bowel and bladder issues…the list really does go on and on.”
“Is it… I mean… Will I…?”I swallowed heavily, unable to get the word out.
“Die?” He waited a beat. “Yes, but probably not from that. You’re more likely to get crushed by a meteor than to have FND be the cause of your death.”
“I hate you.”
He laughed again. “I have terminal patients, Forest, but I don’t think you’re one of them. And I’m only saying that because my confidence in this hypothesis is very high. But we’re going to do more tests than you’ll want to cope with, and we won’t stop until we have answers.”
“Are there treatments?”
At that, his face fell. “Some.”
I knew what that meant.It meant only a few. Which would mean mostly just managing symptoms and learning to live with a new normal.
But I could do that. Really. I could. I had no idea how it might affect my job or my ability to function day to day, but at least we had somewhere to start.
I couldn’t be angry about that.
“When do we start?”
He got a look in his eye, and I almost groaned. “Today sound good?”
No. It didn’t. But I was ready to start ruling stuff out. “Considering my go-to is procrastinating until I have no choice, you’d better bully me into it.”
He chuckled and winked. “Then get your ass up to the twelfth floor, and we can start with the poking and prodding. And I will see you in a few weeks, hopefully with some solid information.”
I wobbled a bit as I stood, but righted myself quickly.
