“We have to get you to a doctor.”
She hung her head. “I know. I have that MRI in a couple of days, but I’m not sure I should wait.”
“You sit here and rest.”
“Okay.” She had started rubbing her left leg.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s more like pins and needles.”
He was still alarmed, but at least she wasn’t cringing in pain.
“Do you have a laptop?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Would you be willing to bring it to me?”
Uh-oh.“Why?”I hope she’s not looking for an internet diagnosis.
“So I can Google these symptoms. That doctor wasn’t telling me anything helpful.”
“I don’t know how smart Googling this will be. You can get a lot of misinformation off the internet.”
“Please.”
He sighed, but relented and brought his laptop to her. “Where do you want to start?”
“Uh…” She scanned the screen for an inordinate amount of time. At last, she said, “You decide.”
This wasn’t the Misty he knew. She wasn’t indecisive. If anything, she knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t shy about expressing it.
“I’m not just going to Google symptoms. WebMD has a pretty good reputation, and it has the most introductory information.”
“Okay. I’ll start there.” Misty typed for a few minutes while Gabe ruminated over his misgivings. Maybe he should have refused to let her use his computer for this.
At last, she clicked on a video. He didn’t know why she picked that one. The doctor droned on about myelin. Lesions. Antibodies. It was dry, but he understood the important stuff. He glanced over at Misty. Her eyes were closed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um, just a little trouble focusing.”
“As in mentally, or with your eyes?”
“Both?”
Shit.He took the computer and paused the video.
“Oh, no, Gabe. I wanted to finish listening to that. I think it’s what I have.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
She restarted the lecture. As the video went on to explain how a lesion in a specific part of the brain affected a person’s nerves, which affected the muscles—including muscles of the eyes—well, it didn’t look good.
He turned her head so he could study her eyes. All he could see was water gradually filling her inner corners and spilling over. He wiped a tear away with his thumb and whispered, “Don’t panic.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself.
“How can I not? What if they see those lesions on my MRI?”
