Neevah
There’sa heaviness in the room even before the three doctors say one word. Two of them I know, Dr. Ansford from New York via video conference, and Dr. Baines, the doctor who talked with me a few days ago. I don’t know the third doctor, which instantly puts me a little on the defensive. I’ve been here three days and never seen her. I’ve started the prednisone, the drug I spent the last few years of my life avoiding, and I have to admit, it seems to be helping. My blood pressure is down. I have much more energy and feel somewhat better, but Dr. Baines wanted to keep me for observation until the kidney biopsy results came back.
Takira is on set helping with the extras and crowd shots. They’re shooting everything they can while I’m out, but at a certain point they’ll run out of scenes they can do without me. That’s why I’m eager to get this news, figure out what needs to be done, and get back to set.
Canon insisted on being here, which makes me feel even more guilty. He says Kenneth is the best AD in the business and can handle a few crowd shots on his own.
“You okay?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed beside me, his voice low and concerned.
“Yeah.” I smile and nod to reassure him and hope that everything will be okay.
But this new doctor doesn’t help.
If you can have an air of competence, this woman carries it. Her eyes are steady, framed by a faint network of laugh lines stenciled into her smooth brown skin. With her long dreadlocks pulled into a stylish updo, she emits a confidence that probably puts most patients at ease right away. I feel nervous because she’s here and has never been before, indicating a new bend in the road on my journey with this disease.
“Neevah,”Dr. Baines says, “I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Okafor. She’s a very well-respected nephrologist who we’ve asked to consult on your case.”
Nephrologist?
I tighten my fingers on Canon’s and try to control my breathing.
“I personally requested Dr. Okafor, Neevah,” Dr. Ansford says from the screen. “She’s the best there is in cases like yours.”
“Cases like mine?” I ask, watching Dr. Okafor warily. “What kind of case is that exactly?”
“May I explain?” she asks Dr. Baines. At his nod, she walks closer to the hospital bed, those steady eyes never leaving mine. “Neevah, when we biopsied your kidneys, we found significant scarring.”
“What does that mean?” Canon asks.
She flicks a questioning glance from him to me, silently asking if he gets to speak. If I weren’t so anxious, it would be funny to see someone question Canon, even if silently.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Canon glances at me, a pleased look in his eyes even in the midst of this, and I realize that’s the first time I’ve referred to him that way. This situation seems to have ripped the training wheels off our relationship. In so many ways, we’re already at full speed.
“Yes, well,” Dr. Okafor says, “the scarring on your kidneys, coupled with what we’ve seen in your blood, urine and ANA tests, indicate that your original diagnosis of discoid lupus should be expanded to systemic lupus.”
I’m already lying down, but I think I’ve fallen. There is a thud in my ears as if I’ve hit the floor. The breath whooshes from my chest on impact. Canon slips an arm around my shoulder, and I clutch his hand for dear life. Literally for life and health I’ve always taken for granted that now seems imperiled.
“I . . . I don’t understand.” I shake my head, look to Dr. Ansford onscreen. “We said it was just discoid and not . . . no. Can you run more tests?”
“Initially,” Dr. Ansford says solemnly, “your symptoms presented very narrowly, but during this flare-up, it’s apparent we’re dealing with a broader diagnosis.”
“And we could waste time running more tests,” Dr. Okafor says, “or we can start treating this now for the best results. I know it’s a lot to process, but can I tell you what we’re dealing with?”
I square my shoulders and nod.
“The scarring on your kidneys is irreversible.” Dr. Okafor’s stare doesn’t waver. “And the damage is significant.”
“No.” I bark out a disbelieving laugh. “My kidneys? It couldn’t have happened that fast?”
“It can. It does. It did,” Dr. Okafor says. “Kidney failure can be quite insidious and hard to detect until the damage has been done. And it can be accelerated if you have an aggressive autoimmune event like what you have, most likely triggered by extreme conditions.”
“You mean stress,” Canon says, his jaw sharply-edged with restraint.
“Yes.” Dr. Okafor flicks her gaze to him. “Your immune system makes antibodies to fight foreign substances, bacteria, viruses, etcetera. When your body produces antinuclear antibodies, they attack the nucleus of your healthy cells.”
“Because your disease had presented so narrowly in the past,” Dr. Ansford interjects, “and you were in conditions that could have caused similar symptoms like muscle soreness and achy joints, those signals may have been disguised until they were severe enough to present as things you hadn’t experienced in the past.”