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Chapter 140: Final words
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Diagnosis: Love Chapter 141: Silence
ALISON "When did I become this woman?" I sat in my office at my desk, staring down at my cell phone. My fingers were knotted together in my lap, and a bottle of antacids was open on the blotter because my idiot nerves had been souring my stomach. It had been five days since Noah's surgery. Five days and eight hours since my last text from him, the one that had read, They're making me give up my phone now, so I'll catch you on the flip side. Don't work too hard today. I'll just be lying around sleeping . . . talk to you in a few, beautiful.I hadn't responded because I'd figured he wouldn't see it until he was back in his hospital room. But that final text had come at seven-forty-five in the morning, and when I still hadn't heard anything by four that afternoon, I'd been mildly concerned. I hadn't been really worried, though, because I knew how hospitals worked. They might've taken his phone away and then surgery could've been delayed for hours. This wasn't emergent, and the OR m
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 142: Coma
ALISON The days all bled together until another week had passed, and then, slowly and painfully, another few days. I lived for the occasional text from Emma.No change. Running more tests.Docs are trying something today-fingers crossed.Off vent today-yay! His mom says he's breathing well on his own. Good news.When Noah had been unconscious for fourteen days, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I left the office an hour early and drove to the hospital, my still-numb mind on autopilot. Once I was in the parking lot, I sat in my car and called Emma."Hey-am I catching you at a bad time?" "Eh-you know what it's like here." She sounded slightly harried. "If it's not one thing, it's five others. And that's on a slow day." "I vaguely remember." I tried to inject a little wry humor in my voice. "Have I mentioned that I don't miss that?" "Watch it, babe, there's talk that we're going to hire another full-time doc after the first of the year. I might be hitting you up to consid
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 143: Drowsy
NOAH My eyes were so fucking dry, it felt like I'd been on a three -day bender. I couldn't quite open them. And I couldn't move. It felt like just seconds ago that I'd been in the gardens with Angela, soaking up some crazy real or dream time with my wife, with the woman I'd missed so much. I wondered idly if I'd fallen asleep there in the grass. Maybe if I managed to get my eyes open, I'd see the flowers and bridges and sunshine. Or maybe not because I was just now beginning to hear some odd sounds around me. There were muted voices, the squeaking of rubber shoes on the floor, some beeping and a weird whooshing sound. I decided not to stress about opening my eyes just yet. I wasn't outside, that was certain. There was a smell in the air, and it wasn't springtime in Wisconsin. My fingers twitched, and I realized that I felt cotton beneath them. Memory began to ooze back in uneven spurts. I'd been in the hospital. My knee-the doctor was operating to fix . . . something. Tendons?
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 144: Shocker
ALISON"Hello, Alison." Brooke Slater was standing behind her favorite wing chair as I entered her office. "Come on in and sit down. How are you today?" Usually, I chose to sit opposite my therapist in the chair that was a mate to hers, but today, I sank down into the loveseat, leaning into the corner. "I'm . . . I'm a mess. That's why I'm here, obviously." I dropped my handbag onto the floor and kicked off my shoes. Brooke Slater and I had discovered early in our professional relationship-therapist to client-that we both talked better when our shoes were off. It was probably representative of shedding the need for cover and defense, Brooke posited. I didn't care; I was just grateful that I'd found a doctor who didn't mind that I liked to get comfortable when I was spilling my guts. "Well, you cancelled two appointments earlier this month, and then when you called for this one, you said it was urgent. That leads me to believe that you're struggling with something." I gave a hu
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 145: Not what I wanted to hear
NOAHIt took a solid week before I was able to stay awake long enough to begin to make sense of what had happened to me over the past month. At first, I tended to forget certain details each time I emerged from sleep, and I had to be reminded again and again that I was in the hospital, that I'd been unconscious, that I was recovering. Dr. Lawrence ran a gamut of tests to make certain that I wasn't suffering from a neurological issue that they'd somehow missed, but everything came back negative. The neuro doc's opinion was that I was fine, that I was just taking a little longer to come back to my full mental strength. Since I showed marked improvement every day, that seemed to be the most logical explanation.My frustration levels didn't help me, either. My mother hovered constantly, worry etched on her face. When I snapped at her, she began to cry and said she was just trying to help . . . which then made me feel guilty. My mother had been here in Florida at my bedside for a month
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 146: What if?
ALISONHave you ever noticed that in romance novels, when the heroine starts puking in the morning, it's usually a glaring hint to the reader that she's pregnant? Seriously. And she's usually fairly clueless about it. She doesn't seem to pick up on the other physical clues. She's just going blithely about her life until she starts throwing up, and even then, she convinces herself that it's just a stomach bug. That's not at all how it happened to me. For me, it was a shirt that didn't fit. I was getting ready for work, preoccupied with other stuff going on in my life, thinking about the patients I was slated to see that day, and in the course of dressing, I slipped my arms into one of my favorite sleeveless blouses and tugged the sides together to button it. The buttons didn't reach the buttonholes. I frowned. That was odd. Taking off the blouse, I flipped it inside out to check the tag, making sure I hadn't accidentally shrunk it in the wash. But no, it was exactly the same as
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 147: Not in a good place
ALISONThree days after my talk with Brooke, I was just unlocking my front door after work when I felt my phone buzz. Emma: Hey, I thought you might want to know that Noah woke up last week. I think he's going to be okay. I visited yesterday, and he seems better. But in case you happen to be at the hospital again and were thinking of dropping in-I'd advise against it. He found out yesterday after I was there that his football career is over. His knee was just too badly injured. He didn't take the news well, according to his mother.I stood on the porch, reading the message over and over, dizzy with a mix of relief and dismay. When I could move again, I opened my door and went inside, dropping my purse on the table before I sank into the sofa. Alison: Thanks for letting me know. Sitting with the phone in my hand, I frowned, trying to decide what I should do next. If Noah was awake, that meant I needed to let him know that I was pregnant as soon as possible. But if he just got so
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 148: Leave me alone
NOAHI sat in my recliner, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. I'd been sitting here in this chair . . . for hours? Days? I wasn't sure. It was easy to lose track of time when you were drowning in despair. One hour blended seamlessly into the next. Wasn't there a line in Shakespeare about that? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day . . .I'd been on the edge of restless sleep when a shifting in the light against the far wall had caught my eye, and I'd heard the gravel in my driveway. Someone was here. No one had been to my house since the medical car service had brought me home two weeks ago. I'd told everyone I knew to stay away, or I ignored their calls, their texts, their fucking pity parties. I didn't need them. But I was curious now about who was defying my keep-away order. Maybe it was just a delivery or someone wanting to sell me something. If it was, they could just fuck off for all I cared. From my recliner, I could see the
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