That Blue Gibson: Another Round

fifty-seven

"Hi," he winced at how loud his voice seemed in that vacuum, "Sorry, I'm a little late to the appointment. Elizabeth Grohl? I'm her husband."

The woman behind the counter broke into a polite smile and held up a hand to indicate he should wait, "Oh! Yes, of course. I'll have a nurse take you right back."

*

It was freezing in that doctor's office.

Downright bitter.

And to make matters even worse, she had been sitting there for twenty minutes in little more than a paper tablecloth with armholes, staring at a poster on the wall that was wondering in large bold letters if she'd been tested for gonorrhea lately. Her lip curled as she triple checked that her skin was fully on the paper covering the vinyl table when the doctor burst in.

"Elizabeth! How are you?"

"Nervous," she admitted, knowing every bit of her body language confirmed it. 

"Ah," he slowly settled onto the rolling stool in front of her and furrowed his brow as he examined her chart, "I can see why. Your blood work confirmed it."

"Oh," she felt like her heart ground to a halt and along with it, her lungs. 

"I take it my nurse didn't stop in with the news?"

Liz registered his concerned face, but could only shake her head while internally she was collapsing.

"Well," the doctor sighed deeply and stood, "Let's get started. Go ahead and lay back."

The paper under her crinkled as she moved, her cold, clammy hand clasped in the doctor's as he helped her recline. She wondered if maybe she had gone into shock, but supposed that the man beside her would know the signs and would act accordingly. But she was cold, so cold, that her feet and fingers were tingling, which was beginning to become worrisome.

"Take a deep breath for me, Elizabeth."

Her eyes flashed to his face and though he didn't let on that he knew she was in distress, he was reaching for a button on the wall that flashed first with blue and then with red. The red probably wasn't a good sign.

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting... I mean... -"

"It's perfectly fine," he said gently, his eyes only leaving her face when the door opened and a nurse stepped in, "I understand this news is a little shocking. We need to discuss your care plan, but first I'd like to do some imaging. Is that all right with you?"

It wasn't. All she wanted to do was get on the first plane to New York, but what the hell was she gonna say? No? 

The same nurse that had taken her blood pressure earlier kindly held the back of Liz's paper gown closed so she could shuffle down the carpeted hallway to yet another exam room where she was gently seated beside a smiling technician. Her chart was handed over and quiet looks of concern were exchanged between the medical professionals that Liz didn't miss.

"Ready, Mrs... oh."

And that's when Liz noticed the tech's script-style FF tattoo on her wrist, artfully nestled beside familiar molecules and the most recent equals logo. 

"I like your tattoo," Liz said softly, trying to break the trance the poor girl was in.

A fierce blush spread across the tech's cheeks when she realized she'd been caught starstruck, "I'm a big, big fan."

"Me too," Liz smiled at her and let her situate her on the table, "He's in New York right now." She felt the need to explain his glaring absence but didn't elaborate further.