Chapter Seven
ADELE
Invisible scars
“Adele?” the receptionist called into the waiting area.
I jumped up from my seat. “I’m here.” I hurried over just as the door to the side of her desk opened.
“Right this way.” The receptionist gestured toward the hallway. “Ellen will bring you back.”
“Hi, I’m Ellen, Dr. Marshall’s new assistant. Come on back.”
Ellen was friendly and polite, but new to me which amped up my stress. If it weren’t for the fact that I suffered from chronic and pretty significant medical anxiety, I might have been able to relax around her. The moment we walked into the exam room, I started twisting my hands. No matter how modern or nice, every doctor’s office felt the same to me—sterile, a little cold, usually white, gray, and other neutral tones. Intellectually, I understood why—germs and all that. But emotionally, it always dragged my nervous system back to those endless childhood medical appointments.
“So, you’re just here for your check-up,” she said politely, pulling up my chart.
“Yep.” My tone was sharp, and I forced myself to breathe slowly, to try to convince my unruly nerves there was no need to panic.
I waited quietly, wondering if she might mention my sister. Her eyes skimmed the screen, tapping on the keyboard here and there.
“Any issues?” she asked, spinning around on the stool, brows arched slightly.
I shook my head. “Everything’s great.”
Another glance at the screen. “All right. Well, Dr. Marshall will be in shortly.”
She paused, and I could feel the stutter in her thoughts. She looked at the screen once again, her eyes widening just a touch. “You wouldn’t be related to Dr. Jacks, would you?”
“She’s my sister.”
“Oh, wow. She’s a cardiologist,” Ellen said.
“Uh-huh,” I said, trying to keep my tone bland and bracing myself for the inevitable follow-up.
If anyone was wondering about the baggage of my childhood heart problems—well, there it was. My sister had become a doctor who specialized in the field that treated those with conditions like mine. Maybe to make sure no one else ever went through what I did. I didn’t really know because we didn’t talk about it.
We had what could best be described as asomewhat fraughtrelationship. If I could’ve waved a magic wand and erased the entire medical chapter of our childhood so that I didn’t take up so much oxygen, so that she didn’t have to hover in the wings of our family’s life, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. I wanted to build a bridge between us. I really did. But she kept me at a distance. She wasn’t cold or cruel—never that. She answered texts. She checked in with me and our parents. She was always steady, always there, just a little reserved and careful.
Growing up, our parents had sought a life on the edge of the wilderness, almost off-grid but not quite, in a small house nearFairbanks. When my sister left for college, she only returned for brief holiday visits. After college and medical school, she stayed in Anchorage, focused on her medical career and structured city life. Meanwhile, I hiked my way across Alaska, scraped by on seasonal work, and slept best under the stars.
When I first started hiking, I’d invited her to come with me. I wanted to build that sister relationship. She always turned me down.
“I’ve had enough wilderness,” she’d say.
“You know she works in our office,” Ellen said with a friendly smile, oblivious to my emotionally complicated train of thought.
“Oh, I know.” I returned the smile. “But I’m her sister, so she tells me I have to see Dr. Marshall.”
“There aren’t many cardiologists in Alaska. She’s kind of a rock star.”
“I know.” I shrugged. “But I’m in the monitoring category for the rest of my life. I’ve had all my surgeries.” I didn’t say the silent thought that always followed that.I hoped and prayed I was done with surgery.
Before Ellen could reply, there was a soft knock on the door, and Dr. Marshall walked in.
“Adele!” she greeted me with a warm smile.
“Hi, Dr. Marshall.” I tried to match her brightness. “I’m just here for you to tell me everything’s still great.”
