I swallowed firmly, getting myself in hand. I had made these choices, an empowered woman of the ages, to bring a baby into the world on my own. I had a burgeoning career, a new life in a new town, and I’d already made it known that I wasn’t going to be at Jenna’s wedding.
“Why not?” she’d asked suspiciously. “I swear, you’re so self-centered, Teen. It’s not like I’m going to pick ugly bridesmaids dresses, I mean you won’t look great with a huge stomach, but whatevs … all eyes will be on me,” she said, shrugging.
“It just wouldn’t be right, I have my reasons,” I’d said firmly.
“Fine, have it your way,” she flounced. “Matt Manning asked about you by the way. He wanted to know why you haven’t been around lately.”
Ah Matt, the country charmer. I missed him, his genuine warmth, the way he sensed instinctively my tense family relationships. “Just tell him I’ve been busy with school,” I said quietly. I couldn’t bring myself to say any more because Matt must have been part of the Pernacular scheme, jacking up the price of a precious medication and putting pregnant women at risk.
Shaking myself of the reverie, I sat up straighter in the waiting room’s hard plastic chair. Was it my imagination or had someone just called my name? Ah Pink Scrubs was back, barking, “Walsh. Tina Walsh.”
“Me, I’m here,” I started, bolting upright. I rushed over to where she stood, hoping I looked better than I felt, like a competent adult able to make difficult decisions. The nurse spun on her heel, and I sighed and followed, my mind too numb to process anything.
I was led to a private room, where the ER pediatrician and another doctor were waiting. There was no examination table, merely a conference room with some chairs, one of those x-ray boards behind them. Hopefully, we weren’t going to have to use it.
But both doctors had serious expressions of their faces and my nerves screamed high alert when the pediatrician made sure to close the door firmly after the nurse left.
“Ms. Walsh,” she began seriously, her face somber but kind. “Please let me introduce my colleague Dr. Conwell,” she said, nodding to the elderly man beside her. “We may as well dive right into it. Dr. Conwell is a pediatric oncologist, specializing in the treatment of children with cancer. Is there a history of cancer in your family?”
“C-c-cancer?” I asked. “No, why?” I rushed. “Is Janie okay? Where is she?” I asked frantically, looking around.
“Your baby is in the NICU still,” said Dr. Conwell gravely. “But we ask because it appears that Janie has a particularly aggressive strain of leukemia which likely manifested when she was still in the womb. Did you go to any third world countries when you were pregnant? Did you ingest anything suspicious like tropical fruits, meat that wasn’t fully cooked, even herbal medicines?”
“No, everything that I ate was kosher and I’ve been in California the entire time I’ve been pregnant,” I said plaintively. “In fact, I haven’t even left the Bay Area.”
The doctors looked at each other. “Is there anything that you could have done that exposed you to a parasite? Maybe walked barefoot in a park, or punctured yourself with a sharp object?”
“No,” I reiterated plaintively. “Well, do cats count? I was housesitting a friend’s cat, not even really housesitting, I’d go over and fill up her water and food bowls. The damn cat scratched me pretty badly, I had a rash for a little while, but it was nothing,” I said, almost crying. “Please tell me it’s nothing.”
The doctors shared another glance.
“We don’t have any answers at this point,” said Dr. Conwell cautiously, “but it’s possible that the cat infected you with a parasite which then invaded your fetus, causing cancer in your baby … in this case blood cancer, or leukemia.”
“Leu- leu- leukemia?” I gasped. “That can’t be right, Janie is a newborn.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Dr. Conwell, “but our initial tests indicate that Janie’s got a rare form of leukemia where abnormal white blood cells form in the bone marrow. The abnormal cells quickly travel through the bloodstream and crowd out healthy cells, causing all sorts of damage, which has manifested through the baby’s lack of appetite, a slight fever, weight loss, and general failure to thrive. I’m afraid that her symptoms will only get worse,” he said sadly.
“But what can we do?” I asked, my voice rising with panic. “Surely there has to be something. You can’t tell me it’s over before it’s begun.”
“Ms. Walsh, the only treatment is experimental at this stage and prohibitively expensive,” said Dr. Conwell.
“Tell me what it is!” I practically shrieked. I would come up with the money, one way or another. With my new job starting soon, I’d soon be flush, making a decent lawyer’s salary.