Sam nodded, and then shot off her chair and raced for the door. Zoe had to assume she was feeling sick again. She sent a sympathetic grimace at her retreating figure. She always did her best for her mums, but for some things, like this, they were on their own.
Zoe was on her way to the kitchen back at the surgery when Simon stopped her in the corridor. ‘Have you got five minutes? Your bloods are back, and I thought you might want to know what the results say.’
‘Already?’
‘I asked for them to be expedited.’
‘I know, but even so, that’s fast!’ Zoe searched his face for clues as to what she ought to expect. Simon’s expression was calm, as it often was, and giving nothing away. ‘Of course. Did you want to go over it now?’
‘It’s up to you, but I’m free at the moment if you are.’
‘Yes…’
Zoe followed him to his room. When they were both inside, he invited her to sit and then quietly closed the door.
‘OK…’ Zoe gave a nervous laugh. She hated not being able to read him, but it was obvious now that she was here that her bloods weren’t normal. If they had been, he’d have said so without preamble, wouldn’t he? If it was to be bad news, she just wanted it over with.
‘I’m afraid your hunch might be right,’ he said finally, turning his screen to show her the numbers listed there. ‘That’s your FSH.’
Zoe looked and her heart sank. Even without the explanation that followed, she could see a problem.
‘It would seem to indicate,’ he continued, unfazed by the look he must have caught on her face, ‘that you’re in perimenopause at the very least. We’d have to dig a little more to confirm premature ovarian insufficiency, but there are definite changes going on.’
Zoe stared at the screen. ‘Oh…’
‘It’s a lot to take in?’ Simon asked.
Zoe simply shook her head, unable to take her eyes from that one figure, the one that would change everything. How silly it was, a little number on a screen, and yet it was huge.
‘There can’t be…?’ Zoe swallowed and managed to drag her gaze away long enough to see Simon’s look of intense sympathy. ‘There can’t be another reason for those levels, can there? I mean, I’m thirty-seven…I know it’s not young, but I’m supposed to have loads of time…’
She already knew the answer, but blind, stubborn hope forced her to ask the question anyway.
Simon’s expression grew graver still and so earnestly full of pity that Zoe didn’t know whether she wanted to ask him for a hug or punch him in the face.
‘It’s fairly conclusive. We can certainly do more investigations and, of course, we can talk through your options. Would you like me to schedule a longer appointment?’
‘I’m not sure…’ Zoe’s gaze went back to the screen. ‘I mean, we’re colleagues…is that appropriate? I know you’ve done these bloods, but…’
‘We’re also friends, and if I can help in any way, then you only have to ask.’
Zoe nodded. On another day, she’d have been able to confirm his logic. But today she didn’t care. She didn’t know what she felt; she only knew the future she’d hoped for, the one she’d been trying to build from the rubble of her losses, was about to collapse. Despite her miscarriage, despite her split from Ritchie,she’d always assumed, deep down, that she’d be a mother one day. But now…? What about now? Was it already too late?
‘I can get the ball rolling straight away on further investigations…if that’s what you want.’
‘Right…yes, I’ll do that.’
Simon peered closely at her. ‘I realise this is a lot to take in.’
‘I was half-expecting it, but…’
‘Do you need some time? Perhaps take this afternoon off to process?—’
‘I have house calls this afternoon.’
‘I’m sure they can be rearranged.’
Zoe shook her head. ‘Not really.’
