i need you
Danielle
I’m lying on my back, about to enter an MRI machine. The doctors have run a battery of tests on me. The weight loss, tremors, and difficulty swallowing could be a whole plethora of things, but they want to rule out all the worst-case scenarios.
“I need you to keep still,” the tech says over the speaker.
“I’m trying,” I say, but both of my hands are shaking. When the MRI is over, I scoot off the table, and the moment my feet hit the floor, everything turns to black.
“Danielle, it’s Dr. Richmond,” I look up into the eyes of Rob Lowe circaSt. Elmo’s Fire,minus the bad hair.
“Wow. I knew it. I knew my personal heaven would involve eighties’ heartthrobs playing doctors in medical dramas.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re speaking well. This isn’t heaven, unfortunately, but it is Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Burbank.”
“How did I get here?” I’m genuinely confused.
“You were getting an MRI upstairs and you passed out, so they brought you down here to the ER.”
“Did you say ‘ER’?” George Clooney is going to walk in next. I’m crossing my fingers under the blanket.
“Yes, the emergency department. A neurologist and your primary are on their way here to talk to you about your scans. I’m just here to find out how you’re feeling right now. Are you comfortable? We’re giving you some fluids. You were very dehydrated.”
It occurs to me that this doctor is acting strangely, and I’m thinking it’s odd that my primary and a neurologist are rushing over when I seem fine.
“Is something wrong with me?” I say in a paranoid voice.
“Your doctors are on their way to talk to you about your scans,” he repeats. He can’t tell me anything. It hits me.He can’t tell me I’m okay, because I’m not.
“Can you hand me my phone, please?” He does, then leaves the room. I dial Alex.
“Hello?”
“Come to St. Joe’s. I’m in the ER department. I need you.”
“Dani, what’s going on? Are the boys okay?”
“It’s not the boys, it’s me. The doctors are coming to talk to me about my MRI. A neurologist, Alex. Something is wrong with me. Ineedyou!” I shout, and then immediately hang up.
I suddenly feel lightheaded and sick to my stomach. “Nurse!” A nurse enters the room. “I’m going to throw up.” She hands me a vomit bag and I heave into it, but there’s hardly anything in my stomach.
Dr. Richmond comes back in and says to the nurse, “I just put the order in. Five milligrams of diazepam.”
The nurse leaves the room while I’m still heaving. A minute later, she’s back and messing with my IV. “What are you giving me?”
“It’s diazepam. Just to calm you down a little bit.”
And it does. I lie back on the pillow and close my eyes. Something is really wrong with me. What is going to happen to the boys? To Alex? Am I going to have to watch them watch me die? The thought is excruciating.
Time is imperfect in these moments. I feel Alex next to me. I open my eyes. He’s standing by the bed with his hand over mine. My primary doctor is there, she’s in her sixties, about to retire, and she’s next to a man whom I assume is the neurologist. He’s probably around the same age. All salt, no pepper. No more hopes for George…no more jokes. Nothing will be funny ever again.
“Hi, Dani, how are you feeling?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I’m one of the neurologists here at St. Joe’s. My name is Dr.Miller.” He reaches out and shakes my hand.
I feel droplets on my hand and look up. I can only see Alex’s profile, but I can tell that the tears are his.
