Saving Abby Page 14

  “But there’s no harm to the baby, right?” Claire needed to be reassured.

  “No harm, I promise. Just do me a favor? No more than six Tylenol if you can help it, okay?”

  Claire groaned. He obviously had no idea how bad her headaches could get.

  Her phone buzzed. I’m here. Chatting with your mom.

  “Josh is here.” Any tension Claire felt disappeared knowing he was there with her.

  “Now there’s a good man. Just what I like to see.” Dr. Shuman opened his office door for her. “You make sure he takes good care of you, or he’ll have me to deal with. Trust me, I can make sure his next checkup won’t be so gentle.”

  NINETEEN

  CLAIRE

  Present day

  Claire’s hands were visibly shaking. If it weren’t for Josh holding her up, she’d probably collapse into a puddle.

  Ever since the MRI, she’d been a bundle of nerves.

  She knew everything was fine. Although she felt anything but.

  She had an appointment for this afternoon to get more blood work done. Abby figured the results of her brain scan would be in and reassured her there would be nothing to worry about.

  Easy for her to say.

  “Need a refill?” Julie Peters, owner of the Odd Cup coffee shop, stood at their table, carafe of coffee in her hand.

  Claire shook her head, holding her hand over her mug, but Josh held his up.

  “You make the best cup of joe, Julie.” Josh sipped at his liquid gold. “When are you going to start letting us buy beans here?”

  He’d been asking the same thing for the past two years. And for two years, Julie gave the same answer.

  “And not see your handsome face? Never.” She winked at Claire. “How are you feeling? I have a special rooibos blend to help with the nausea you should try.”

  “Thanks, Julie, but I think I’m far enough along now that I should be safe. Fingers crossed.”

  “Really?” She sounded surprised. “Have you talked to Abigail about that? My mom used to say the sicker you felt, the better.”

  Claire struggled to keep the smile on her face. Ever since word got out about her pregnancy, she’d had a whole assortment of advice given to her.

  “My mom was never sick, so hopefully it’s a family trait.”

  That appeared to mollify Julie. “Well, that would make sense. I can’t tell you how excited everyone is about your little one. If anyone deserves to be parents, it’s you two. Have you thought of names yet?” She leaned forward. “There’s a bet going on over at Last Call about the sex and name. Did you know?”

  “Really?” Josh said.

  “Really. Mike’s the man to talk to. I’ve got my money on a girl named Emily,” Julie said as Claire glanced at the time and then stared out the window. The seconds crawled, and she was antsy.

  “Let me finish my coffee, and then we can head over.” Josh watched her, and she noticed new worry lines around his eyes and forehead.

  This must be just as stressful for him as it was for her, but he was trying his best to stay upbeat for her.

  “What if something’s wrong with the baby?” Claire whispered.

  Josh’s eyes widened at her words, and then he shook his head.

  “There’s nothing wrong. They would have wanted us in right away if there was.” Josh forced a smile, but Claire heard the false hope. Even he was worried.

  By the time they walked through the front doors, her hands were trembling, her mouth dry, and all she could think about was that something was wrong with the baby.

  “Nothing is wrong with the baby.” Abigail accosted Claire the moment she walked into the empty waiting room and gave Claire a hug, holding her tight.

  Claire searched Abby’s red-rimmed eyes. “Why the tears then?”

  Abby shook her head, lightly touched her arm, and struggled with her words. This wasn’t the Dr. Abigail Cox everyone knew and loved. The woman who remained calm and strong for her patients, who made it her mission to never break down while at the office—who firmly believed that her patients needed her to be strong, and so strong she would be.

  “Abigail, what’s wrong?” Josh asked.

  Abby just shook her head and then gripped the white jacket she wore over her shirt and jeans.

  “I saw you from the windows and just wanted to give you a hug. Come on, let’s go get that blood work done before you see Dr. Shuman.”

  Abigail wouldn’t meet her eyes. Claire glanced at Josh to see whether he noticed.

  She never thought Abigail would lie to her. She never did when any of the fertility treatments came back negative. But right now, in this moment, Claire knew, in her heart of hearts, she was being lied to.

  Her legs wobbled as they walked toward one of the patient rooms. No one spoke while Abby took five vials of blood, listened to Claire’s heart, and checked her blood pressure.

  “How are you feeling? Still exhausted? How are the headaches? Any cramping or nausea?” Abigail rattled off her questions.

  “Not sure. Absolutely. I have a headache now. No cramping, and Julie says that being nauseous while pregnant is actually a good sign. Should I be worried?” Claire asked.

  “Did you have morning sickness last time?”

  There were only a few people who knew about her previous pregnancy. Abigail was one of them. As her doctor, it made sense, especially since they’d gone through years of infertility treatments.

  Claire shook her head.

  “Then I wouldn’t worry. What does Julie know? And what do you mean by not sure?”

  “You asked how I’m feeling. I’m not sure. How am I supposed to feel? I’m nervous, scared, tired, and irritated. Is this just pregnancy hormones or something else? Should I be afraid? I can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong. Were you wrong? Should we not have done the MRI because of the baby?” Claire’s pitch ratcheted upward the more questions she asked.

  “I think what you’re feeling is normal. I’m sorry this has been so stressful for you. Please believe me—the baby is fine. Your ultrasound is in a few days, and you’ll see for yourself. Have you thought about whether you want to know the sex yet?”

  There was the Dr. Abigail Cox that Claire expected to see. Her voice was composed, authoritative, and with enough of a hint of a smile to calm her.

  “We want it to be a surprise,” Claire said. “Well, Josh does at least.”

  “Are you sure? It’s okay if you change your mind at the last minute, lots of couples do.”

  “And spoil the fun?” Josh asked. “Did you know there’s a bet going on about both the sex and the name?”

  Abigail blushed.

  “What did you pick?” he asked.

  “I can picture a little girl with her daddy, can’t you?” Abby grinned and then quickly sobered. “Will is probably waiting in his office for you. I’ll see you after, okay?”

  “Sure.” Claire cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, know the results?”

  She wasn’t sure if Abby heard her, though. She’d opened the door and rushed out before Claire even had a chance to stand up.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Josh sighed and led the way. They followed Abby to Dr. Shuman’s office down the hall.

  Dr. Shuman sat at his desk, looking over what Claire assumed was her file. The door to the bookcase behind his desk was open, and the monitor normally hidden away had been pulled out and turned on. Two scans of what Claire assumed were her brain appeared on the monitor.

  He stood when they entered.

  “Abigail, if you don’t have any patients, I’d like you to stay, please,” Dr. Shuman said.

  Claire remained quiet and watched the facial expressions of both her best friend and her family physician. Something was wrong. She turned her attention to the scans on the display, and tried to detect anything odd about how her brain looked.

  “How’s your headache today, Claire?” Dr. Shuman asked as he sat back down behind his desk. “On a scale of one to ten.”
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  “Four.” Which meant she’d also had about four pills by now to dull the throb she’d woken up with.

  “The headaches are just hormonal, right?” Josh asked.

  Claire waited to hear the confirmation. She needed to hear Dr. Will say yes. She leaned forward, ready for his answer.

  “Not exactly.”

  Claire sat back and sighed.

  Dr. Shuman tapped his index fingers together, as if thinking of his next words.

  “I’ve learned throughout my years that there’s no sugarcoating unexpected news. Claire, you have what is called an anaplastic meningioma, a grade-three brain tumor.”

  The words swept Claire away. She felt like she was drowning. Dr. Shuman continued to speak, but she couldn’t make out the words. They were garbled and distorted.

  The tips of her fingers began to tingle and freeze, the coldness crawled along her veins, up her arms and into her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She struggled to make her lungs work, to draw in air and push it back out, but they were frozen as well. Her body floated over the chair she sat in before things began to spin wildly around her. She tried to reach out to Josh, but he seemed so far away, and then everything disappeared.

  TWENTY

  JOSH

  Present day

  He caught her before she fell.

  “Claire.” The skin of her arm was cold to his touch. “Claire.” He called her name over and over, while he held her at an awkward angle. She’d slumped forward and to the right, toward him.

  Abby rushed forward and helped, getting her to lean back in the chair, and then just looked at her.

  “Do something.” His wife just fainted. She has a brain tumor, and she fainted. That must mean something. Why wasn’t Abby helping her?

  “Claire? Claire, honey? Can you hear me?” Abigail said softly, her hands ran up and down Claire’s arms, as if trying to warm her up.

  Josh looked at Dr. Shuman, feeling helpless and angry at the same time. “Is this because of . . . because she has . . .” He couldn’t even say the words.

  He’d heard Dr. Shuman loud and clear. He knew exactly what “anaplastic meningioma, a grade-three brain tumor” meant. Cancer. Something his own mother had died from. Although hers was stage four, and by the time they’d caught it, it had been too late.

  “Has she fainted before now?” Dr. Shuman asked.

  “No. Just headaches, and she sleeps a lot.” Josh leaned forward, buried his head in his hands. “Why didn’t I see this sooner? I know the signs. I should have seen this.” His whole world was being swallowed up, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  His wife stirred, and Josh bolted upright in his seat.

  Her lashes fluttered, and she turned to him, her eyes reaching out. For him.

  “There we go.” Abigail stood but kept Claire’s hands within hers. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you faint.”

  He could hear the false cheer in Abigail’s voice, but it was the look of apprehension on her face that scared him the most.

  If Abigail was worried, then things weren’t good.

  “Josh? I want to go home. Please?” Claire pulled her hands out from Abigail’s grip and reached out for him.

  He stood, gathered his wife into his arms, and held her tight. “Are you okay?” He kissed the top of her head. “I need to know you’re okay,” he whispered for only her to hear.

  She nodded, but her body tensed as she stared at Dr. Shuman.

  “Claire, why don’t you sit down?”

  His wife’s body shook in his arms. “Let me take her home,” Josh said.

  “We need to talk about this.” Dr. Shuman shook his head and stood, bracing his hands on his desk. “Please, I know this is overwhelming and”—he breathed in deep—“scary, but you’re not alone.”

  “It’s okay,” Claire whispered. “I’m okay.” She returned to her seat but held on to his hands. Small tremors swept through her body.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “The last thing I heard you say was that I have a tumor.” She swallowed past that word but kept her focus steady. Her grip on his hand tightened, though.

  “Claire, your headaches are the result of a grade-three tumor that is putting pressure on your skull at the base. I wish I could tell you they are due to pregnancy hormones, but I can’t.” The doctor sat back down but leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and watched Claire intently.

  “What does stage three mean?” she asked.

  “Some cancers disappear after treatment—whether it’s through surgery or radiation or even chemotherapy. Some may grow back. Stage three means that, regardless of treatment, chances are strong that it will grow back.”

  The silence in the room while they all watched Claire process his words was palpable.

  “So I have cancer in my brain, and you’re telling me it won’t go away.” She gave a slight nod of her head. “What about my baby? Are there concerns? Can we get that ultrasound done right away so we can check?” She placed her free hand over her belly.

  “What are our options?” Josh twisted in his seat to look at Abigail and Dr. Shuman. He read two different scenarios on their faces. Abigail seemed uncertain, and Dr. Shuman seemed determined.

  “Claire, the baby is fine.” At least Abigail’s voice was reassuring.

  “I’m going to be honest with you.” Dr. Will cleared his throat. “If you weren’t pregnant, I’d recommend immediate surgery followed by radiation.”

  “But?” Josh asked.

  “Josh, radiation is dangerous for the baby. There are too many risks involved.”

  “What do you mean risks?” Claire scooted forward in her chair, her focus intent on the doctor.

  Josh placed his hand along her back. He needed to feel connected to her right now.

  “You’re at”—Dr. Will checked the file before looking up—“twelve weeks right now, which means we’re almost past when normal miscarriages occur, but you’re not far enough along to rule out that possibility. I—”

  “Miscarriage?” The words sounded like they were strangling Claire. “When is the risk over for that?”

  “About twenty weeks. I would suggest waiting until you’re further along, but the dosage you need is too high.”

  “Too high for . . . ?”

  “There could be substantial risk of major malformations like neurological and motor deficiencies.”

  Claire nodded, sat back in her chair, and took a moment.

  “So we wait until the baby is born. Right?”

  “Wait?” Josh didn’t like the sound of that. “Can we? Is the tumor growing?” He shook his head. “It’s not worth the risk.”

  Claire turned to him. “The baby isn’t worth the risk? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Josh rubbed his hand over his face. “That’s not what I said.”

  “What we’re going to do is called active surveillance. We’re going to monitor the tumor, and see if it grows. If it doesn’t, then we have time.” Dr. Shuman’s gaze softened as he looked at Claire.

  Josh tried to process his words.

  “So we’re doing nothing is what you’re saying. She could die, but we’re going to do nothing about it?” His voice rose as the reality of what was happening hit him square in the gut. He could lose his wife, his soul mate, the one person who made his life make sense—because she was pregnant.

  “She won’t die, Josh. I won’t let that happen.” Abigail spoke the words he needed to hear, but in this moment, he wasn’t sure he believed her.

  “I’m not going to die, Josh.” She looked at him, and what Josh read in her gaze humbled him.

  Here she was, the one with a brain tumor, the one who could die, and she was comforting him.

  What was wrong with him?

  “So when you say monitor, you mean more MRIs?” she asked.

  “Yes. And we’ll keep a close eye on your symptoms, how you’re feeling. I’d like you to start keeping a record, a journal.” Dr. Shuman pu
lled out a small notebook from a desk drawer and handed it over. “Every day, I want you to write when you get a headache, how long it lasts, and rate it from one to ten. Also detail how are you feeling, your energy level, what you’re eating, and so on. There’s never too much data. Abigail and I will work together, so you can show it to her weekly and to me every month or so when you come in. If there is anything she sees that we need to look at more closely, we’ll deal with it then.”

  Claire thumbed through the notebook and then nodded. She handed it to Josh to look through. It was a daily journal, with areas at the top for the date, symptoms, and diet, and then a smaller area at the bottom of each page for special notes. It was laid out in a practical way, and for his note-taking wife, exactly what she needed.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m sure you have questions. But why don’t you go home and rest, and Abigail will stop by later.” Dr. Shuman glanced up at Abigail.

  “Absolutely. Why don’t Derek and I come by, and we’ll bring dinner too? We can talk things through and create a plan. You’ll be okay, Claire. I promise.” Abigail stepped away from the counter she’d been leaning against and pulled Claire up into a hug. “I promise.”

  Josh stood alongside his wife but remained where he was as Abigail led Claire out of the room. He turned to the doctor and stared at him until he knew Claire wasn’t within hearing distance.

  “Tell me straight. My mother died of a stage-four brain tumor, so I know what this looks like. She’s going to die, isn’t she?”

  Dr. Shuman pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath.

  “I love that girl as if she were my own. You know that, right? She’s not dying on my watch, Josh. I can promise you that.”

  “What about the baby?”

  Dr. Shuman’s shoulders dropped, and in that moment, the elderly doctor looked old.

  “I’m not going to lie. Things would be simpler if she weren’t pregnant. Like I said, I’d have her in for surgery and radiation treatment right away. She’d have a better chance if we did.”