ONE
ZALEA | HAWAII
The blindingly brightexam room I’m in smells overwhelmingly like antiseptic as I sit on the edge of the table, paper crinkling beneath me, feet swinging slightly because I don’t know what else to do with my body when I’m this nervous.
The doctor I’ve been seeing for the past few weeks sits across from me, scrolling through my chart as his glasses slip down his nose. He’s a short middle eastern man with curly hair. I would’ve preferred a woman, for comfort reasons, but it seems like every female doctor on this island has a full patient list.
“Okay,” he says gently. “We’ve finally got your bloodwork and ultrasound results back.”
I twist my fingers together in my lap and nod, even though my chest already feels tight. Random bleeding outside of my regular period can’t be a good sign, I’m sure of it. Gabriel was in Hawaii three months ago, and I stupidly caved and had sex with him. And if this is what I think it is, I might lose my mi?—
“The pregnancy test is negative.”
Relief hits me first, followed by guilt. But if I’m being honest, I am innoposition to have a child at this time in my life. In fact, the timing couldn’t be any worse. I’m one competition away from qualifying for my first World Championship Tour.I’ve secured wildcard spots on legs of previous tours over the years, but I’ve worked towards earning a place on the full year-long tour my entire career, and it’s just three days away from becoming my reality.
“But,” he continues, and I hate the word immediately, “the ultrasound showed multiple small cysts on your ovaries.”
My stomach drops as I blink back at him. “Cysts?” The panic builds as my mind races with what that could mean.
“Yes.” He swivels his stool so that he’s facing me fully, forearm resting on the side of his desk. “They’re small, fluid-filled follicles and they’re very common, especially in women with irregular cycles.”
“But my cycles have been regular up until this month.”
He shrugs, giving me a sheepish grin. “The body works in weird ways.”
That sounds like a lazy cop out answer, but I’m not about to argue with a doctor.
I swallow. “Are they dangerous? Is my life at risk?”
“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head. “Not dangerous. They’re not cancerous, and they don’t require surgery or anything like that.”
I nod trying to come off calmer than I feel, but my heart is currently ricocheting around my rib cage.
“This pattern,” he continues, tapping the screen beside him, “along with your hormone levels and the symptoms you described previously, point toward something called polycystic ovary syndrome. Otherwise known as PCOS.”
I stare at him. “And that means?”
“It’s a hormonal condition,” he explains. “Your body produces and responds to hormones a little differently, which can affect ovulation. That’s what’s leading to your irregular or frequent periods, breakthrough bleeding, things like what you’ve been experiencing lately.”
“So, basically you’re saying my body’s malfunctioning?” It was meant to come across as a joke, a way to lighten this heavy mood, but my voice cracks and I know he sees right through it.
He smiles softly. “Not malfunctioning, Zalea. Your body is just wired a bit differently.”
I press my hands flat against the paper on the exam table to try and ground myself as a wave of nausea hits me.
“And you said this is…common?” I ask, closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing.
“Very,” he replies. “The intense physical training and stress that you experience as a professional athlete can make symptoms more noticeable, but PCOS exists independent of lifestyle.”
My throat tightens. “And it can be treated?” I ask.
“It can be managed,” he says carefully. “Some people use medication to regulate cycles, while others manage it with lifestyle adjustments. It really depends on symptoms and your goals.”
“My goals? What do you mean?”
He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “I mean your fertility goals. Do you have any children?”
The question echoes in my head, loudly. I feel like I’m underwater, where sounds are distorted, and pressure is building. I try not to think about it most days, not after everything that happened all those years ago, but now it feels like I have no choicebutto think about it.
