"What are you saying, Bryce?" I stared at him, brimming with unbelief, "I don't understand. You never talked about them and now all of sudden th-they are...killers?"
If the situation was stagnant like usual, I would've regarded the revelation simply as a prank from him but there was no humor in Bryce's brown eyes, dark as pools of a black riptide, "All this while I've been warning about your boss...I never bothered to explain how dangerous my family is. I am."
Shaking my head, I averred, "I don't believe you. No-No, this...this isn't true. You can't be anything like that!"
"Believe me or not, Charlotte but it's the truth." He inclined his head, "Truth is always bitter to hear, especially from someone like me, isn't it?"
You could know truth from the silence it brought. It was a virtue which rendered one completely at the mercy of frozen iron curtains— harsher than mirthless lies. The way Bryce spoke...it was as if the Bryce in front was the Bryce I knew no more. This one was absinthial and darker, miles wandered off from the carefree and virile surgeon I called my guy-friend. There were stories unenlightened in his frontage, memories rising as shrouded vapors from overextended validity. A different being stood before me, twisted contortion— angry and scared and flustered and confused. This one wanted to be comforted. Wanted...help.
"You ran away from your family." I stated in a low voice, suspicious of immoral ears that might be listening to this private converse.
Bryce's eyes sought heavenward for a moment before he recited in an equally low tone, "My high school went with fear and bodyguards. My family has enemies, lots of them. Comes with the perks of dealing blue diamond. My guards would wait outside my classroom and follow me everywhere. And because of them, guys rarely wanted to be my friend and girls were too afraid to come near. This shit went on until I graduated and shoved a huge pile of rebellion against my parents. I was given an ultimatum." He growled, "Either stick to their methods or snivel away from their lives, living my own."
Inside, I understood my hypocrisy of upholding my parent's imprudent behavior on my skin always without knowing that I was no special snowflake in a world like this, a sneer of cold command where visage of evil were always in demand.
"And you chose to leave them." I said, "They allowed it?"
"Hell no." he shot, "My father almost locked me in dungeon of his fucking huge mansion and mom threw tantrums every day, saying that I'll always be followed whenever I went. The only good thing about their lives was they were really secretive with their business and operation. You can't really find Lahelas dealing with underworld. Even law enforcement can't do."
"It's too much." I took in a sharp breath, "That's like...you were keeping this whole thing within you the whole time? You never bothered to share anything even when I said I was with you! Bryce!"
"I wanted to be your friend, Charlotte." He tone was gentle, "I never wanted you to be in fear around me."
I guffawed at his puerile thinking, "Bryce, I grew up with my parents. Fear is the last thing I would ever expect from you." Steeping closer to him, I raised my head to meet his eyes, "You should've told me something really shitty was happening. Are you parents bothering you now?"
"Not directly...but with my sister here, she's a senior." He spoke in a mocking tone, "Somewhere near your age. She ran off and I am afraid my folks would think it was me who took her away and would send artillery to take her back. And by artillery, I actually mean it."
"...So you parents are mafia?"
He winced, "That they are."
"That's what you meant by your parents being absent in your life and sending loads of cash for you to grow up. They were always out in business." I put in the words, "Blood business."
"I won't lie to you anymore about this, not after the way they are affecting my job here." Bryce ran a hand over his face, "Ever since I got my sister's call since New Year, I've been worried that a chaos was going to follow after her. Turns out I wasn't wrong. And now she's here with no money or support." He sighed, "Well, I'm the support but it's not like we are exactly close. I had cut them all off four years ago."
I should be really worried because when you heard the word mafia, it meant run as far as possible. They were the invisible string-pullers in world who wasted no time to gush blood and money together like a symbolic blended harmony and established their empires over almost every major city. The word itself was insignificant foremost to actual deal, where dangerous games of life and death were balanced in hands of such powerful, heinous people. When your life was already in a pit-fall of evil pharma companies and leering plastic surgeons, it was wise to steer clear them...but Bryce? Never had I ever expected to hear this from his lips.
Bryce Lahela came from a family of syndicates. It was the teratoid news of decade.
"How can I help?" I immediately suggested, "Tell me. I want to."
"Charlotte—"
"I want to." I repeated, "You're a brilliant doctor. Best of your batch. Don't let the bloody resume of your parents make scarce from your position."
He gave me a small smile and rested his large paw on my shoulder, "My sister and I are total strangers. I don't know how to deal with her...can you come over to my place sometime? It would really be good for her to talk to someone of her age."
I scoffed, "I'm twenty-two, Bryce. Not exactly a teenager."
"But you do look like a teenager." He leaned closer, "A beautiful, precious girl."
"Alright, surfer prince." I laughed it off and put distance to proximity between us, "I'll come around your place to help your sister, and then you can narrate me the rest. Although I still can't believe your parents are...you know?"
"There are things which remain hidden within us and we don't speak out of shame." Bryce dipped his chin, "This is my greatest shame. Not being removed from surgery...but my family."
"Hey." I touched his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Let's not talk it now. We'll have plenty of time at your house. Now, you go and tell Dr. Tanaka that everything's fine and you are back in action."
"Charlotte, I wanted to tell—"
"Dr. Turner!"
I jumped at the voice which thundered like a cracker's doom behind me. My name never had sounded so unpromising. Withdrawing myself away from Bryce, I turned and found Ethan standing with an impassive face but eyes burning blue flames. Those eyes flickered between me and Bryce, and I purposefully took few more safe steps, saying, "Dr. Ramsey? Is something wrong?"
"I am pretty sure your patient is waiting." Ethan forced-uttered those words, "But I see you've found yourself busy in a secluded corner."
His tone generated a scowl on my face, "No, Dr. Ramsey. That's not the matter." I turned to Bryce who was glaring at Ethan as if he was one of four horsemen riding on a pale horse and bringing with him the plague, "Dr. Lahela and I are done, aren't we?"
Bryce nodded, not taking his eyes off Ethan, "We are. See you later, Dr. Turner." He stiffly hoofed out and stopped beside Ethan, gazing at him sideways, "Dr. Ramsey."
My brows were near my head at the silent exchange between them, almost as if both of them were measuring each other for reasons unknown. Bryce then gave himself a pull and padded away in a strained manner.
Then Ethan turned to me and furiously spoke, "What are you doing here?! I've been looking for you."
"I can't really be lost in Edenbrook, can I?" I replied, suppressing an urge to roll my eyes, "What's the matter?"
"I've got lead in Gwyneth's case." He informed, and then narrowed his eyes, "What were you talking to him?"
"Who Bryce?" I frowned, "Nothing. Just catching up."
"Catching up in a faraway corner in the hospital?" he crossed his arms and pinned me with a shiver-inducing stare. I stared back at him with confusion, trying to find out if currently he was flagrant as my boss or boyfriend. But of course, with that mask he always outrageously wore, you couldn't figure out until spending hours gazing at the handsome face.
I sighed, almost smiling, "He's my friend, Ethan. Can't I talk to my friend alone?"
"A friend?" he ridiculed, "That guy is clearly in love with you!"
My mouth hung open at such open declaration in public, "That's not true! Ethan! What's gotten into you?!" I looked here and there for a bit, searching if we were being listened, "I've made things clear with him. He knows, alright? He knows."
"I know what I saw. I don't want him around you." He riled in a chipped voice.
I closed my eyes briefly, "He will always be around me. Live with that and let's go. You've got some lead, isn't it?"
I didn't wait for him and just turned back, heading to the staircase to DD. Seconds later, he followed and easily caught up, saying, "Dr. Lahela has his imprudent attention on you from the first day itself. You said so, and such men cannot be trusted keeping a steady pace in friendly terms. I cannot let Lancelot take you away.
Close to turn into a baby Godzilla, I whirled to him on upper staircase and scorned, "Ethan! Where is this coming from?! Lancelot taking me away? I'm not going to cut off every guy whom you are jealous off!"
"I am not jealous of him. Such manners are not exhibited from me." He simply stated and marked me with expectant look.
"Un-freaking-believable!" I contemned in a whisper-yell, "He's having a rough patch, and as his friend, I'll do whatever I can to help him. And in reminder, there is only one man I love but it seems to be not enough, does it?"
"Charlotte..."
"Let's check on Gwyneth case."
Time between getting to his office passed from my mind with thoughts of Bryce's family. There was nothing I could do to have it changed, even if I wanted to. For someone like him, a better man becoming greater in his sector— he deserved more than just to be born in blood mafia. He deserved more than having shame for his family. He deserved just more.
Ethan turned his laptop in my direction, standing beside me and I found our patient's extremely popular page opened. "What are we looking at?" I asked, peering at the screen where he was scrolling through her Instagram pictures.
"Her travel history." He glanced at me briefly, "She traveled plenty before catching her illness."
"You think she got something on the way?"
"No. Nothing pathogenic. All results came inconclusive of any respects." Ethan drew his lower lip between his teeth and I was suddenly fascinated by that simple moment. It should be noted that irrespective of any situation, there was nothing genial about even a minute gesture from him. There was something the way he moved, his dynamism in any environment which brought voyaging sight to sore eyes. And just like that, thoughts concerning Bryce abated to a side for time being. Even chronology of truth seemed to avoid getting trapped in Ethan's magnetic puzzle.
"Charlotte?"
"Hmm." I absently mumbled.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Yes." I nodded, drawing myself back to screen and avoiding his intent gaze on me, "Nothing pathogenic."
"Where is your mind today?" He asked, squinting at me, "You seem distracted."
I have a titanic distraction standing right of me.
"Sorry. Just here and there." I strung along, "But why is her travel history concerning here?"
Ethan stared at me for a few seconds more before saying, "This here, take a look at this."
He clicked on the picture where Gwyneth was standing in a crop field— barley field to be exact and according to location, it was South Sacramento. She was posing wearing a lithe pink coloured dress with open hair and notably, no makeup which made her look like a homeless imposter of Gwyneth Monroe.
"And this."
Another photo showed her holding a wine glass, liquid the colour of pomegranate. Her makeup was back and she seemed to be drinking judiciously having written- 'Best wine in the world.' The company's name was in the background and from that, it was understandable that the wine was made from barley as well.
"There is something here which keeps my attention fixed." Ethan informed, "The symptoms and this wine."
"Barley....barley..." and as if an explosion of realization has occurred behind the back of my head, I suddenly actualized what we were missing, "Ethan! Barley has gluten which can cause an immune reaction!" I exclaimed, almost jumping off my seat.
His brows furrowed before he realized it as well, "You're right. Many people have no symptoms at all. We are looking at...Celiac disease."
I touched my head, stunned, "All while we were doing blood tests and thinking it as a pathogen, we forwent that she could've had allergies to gluten which is common!"
"Good job, Charlotte." Ethan gave me a small smile, "Let's break this news to her."
---------------
Baz and June were called in and together, four of us cantered into Gwyneth's room where as usual, she was filming. Cameras panned in our direction and met with Ethan's stone-melting glare and therefore— just in case a certain director of diagnostics department got angrier and rendered their million dollar equipment into metal lumps, the cameraman dutifully lumbered away from the room leaving us with our patient.
"Doctors! Hello." Gwyneth turned to me, "Dr. Turner, so good to see you again! You look beautiful as usual."
Behind me, June snickered having her assumption that Gwyneth was extra-friendly towards me declared true. She had a great talent of knowing what people thought— if not a bit creepy as well.
"We have finally made precise diagnosis about your disorder, Miss Monroe." Ethan began, "You are with Celiac Disease."
Her face twisted in a funny expression, "Ce-lee-ac disease? What the hell is that?! Am I gonna die!"
"No!" I shot forward and positioned myself at the edge of her bed, "You're not gonna die. Don't think about it. Celiac Disease is an autoimmune disorder caused due to allergies towards gluten products."
"I have glut allergy?" Gwyneth frowned, "But I had no idea!"
"Sometimes it takes time to manifest in our body, and some people do not show any symptoms at all as well. You visited Sacramento and there you tried barley wine, didn't you?" Baz asked.
"A lot." Our patient said, "I loved it...wait, there is glut in barley?!"
"Gluten is a protein found in staple crops like wheat, rye...and barley. So, their products contain significant milligrams of it as well. The wine you consumed, lest a huge quantity caused inflammation in your small intestine and damaged stomach linings." June informed.
I continued, "Celiac disease doesn't show any direct symptoms, and prevents absorption of necessary nutrient in your body. This is called malabsorption and the results of which, you drastic loss in weight. Vomiting is one of the symptoms of the disease as well."
"So there is something wrong with me?" in a thin voice, Gwyneth asked.
"There is nothing wrong with you." Ethan spoke with slight irritation, "Many people do not have any symptoms to be prosecuted for diagnosis. It's an autoimmune reaction and fairly not uncommon. It can be treated, but you need time."
"How much time?"
Ethan typed on his tablet, "Mainstay of treatment is a strict gluten-free died that can help manage symptoms i.e vomiting and promote intestinal healing. Two weeks, give or take."
Her face fell, "Two weeks? Two weeks more in the hospital?" and then she agreeably sighed, "I guess I've to make myself as better as possible. Thank you for finding this."
June stepped forward, "I'll bring a consulting dietician who would prepare an excellent chart for fourteen-day period. You have to follow every step of it if you want to move outside and continue vlogging, Gwyneth."
"Alright." She nodded, "Dr. Turner, it seems I'll do more medical vids here."
She should be grateful that Ethan was even allowing such nuisance to take place here. Of course, all he wanted was to kick those camerafolks away so that they didn't soil his gracious department but if it kept our patient satisfied, his musings were duly discarded to somber sulking.
Ethan and I left June and Baz with our patient and walked out from the room. There was a genuine satisfaction within me, a content fulfilled by having the case finally solved. Sometimes such cases managed to throw us in a curve, but according to physics— in a curve, the point you journey was the pointed you ended as well.
To our surprise, Dr. Banerji was waiting for us outside with a pleased expression. He had forgone his coat and was dressed in a white full-sleeved shirt with khaki trousers. An old pocket-watch hung on his shirt which I found cute. His square-rimmed glasses glinted eyes of woody tint mooring quartered information. He shook hands with Ethan and gave me a side-hug before saying,
"Good job, Ethan. You seem to be doing outstanding work here."
"Just doing my work, Naveen. As you taught me." Ethan stoically replied and I suppressed rolling my eyes again. You would never expect Ethan to accept any kind of praise towards him. His arrogance came with his work, never with pride or compliments. The knowledge treasured in his mind was enough to declare forth his name, not the achievements which always expanded the infinite pool of respect I have for him.
Whisking back, Dr. Banerji showed us a file he was holding, "I have some news from the board. It's about budget of diagnostics department."
"Don't tell me they're ripping us off as well!" I cried in alarm, turning to Ethan for hope that our department was not on path of evitable flood which nobody wanted to avoid or deter from.
"No, no. No such thing." Dr. Banerji replied and handed the file to Ethan, "Dr. Turner's proposal has been approved by board."
What?!
Ethan frowned at the file, "Dr. Turner's proposal...wait." His eyes hardened, "Do not tell me it's what I'm thinking."
"Because of your latest patient, the board has approved to have the team shift its primary directive to high-profile patients, to pay for humanitarian efforts." Naveen shuffled on his foot as if it bothered him, "As a result, cases requiring financial needs would be...shifted towards general practitioners."
I, for a moment was shocked because I had no idea that Ethan had discussed my suggestion with Naveen! I thought he was so resentful over my proposal to have it simply discarded like a fallen wrapper, swept away by the cleaning crew who worked here. But here it was— not only Ethan took my case seriously, but also it got board's approval which meant DD won't take a significant share from hospital and focus could be shifted to community clinic! Damn, Apollo! This news was a delight!
"No." Ethan announced out of blue.
What?
Quirking my head, I found him glaring at the file after reading it, "No. I won't allow it."
"Ethan..."Naveen suspired and laid a hand on his shoulder, "I know this is hard to accept, but times are tumulus and we need finances to ensure working of community clinic. Besides, the vote has been cast."
"Without me?!" Ethan exploded, voice like crashing waves of tempestuous sea which swept me off my feet on rumbling sands, "I am the director of Diagnostics Department for god's sake! I have a seat in the goddamn board! How can you decide without involving me— involving my own department?!"A few people nearby directed puzzled looks at us but Ethan angrily ignored the whole world and plainly focused his burning attention at the file in hands, "This isn't a marketing scheme, Naveen...these are our patients we are talking about! They can't afford such high demands!"
Oh-uh, I knew this was coming. Behind back of my head, a flying monkey laughed at the scared rodents in my stomach— having forgotten how much Ethan still resented this idea. But what surprised me was the voting...even Naveen who didn't involve Ethan in this. Why would he do such a thing? Was there more under lines I was apprehensive for?
Keeping a lock on Ethan, Naveen calmly said, "Ethan. Even if you reject the proposal, majority still holds. Dr. Tanaka wasn't present either but even without you both, five members voted in favor for it. It has been accepted."
"You voted." the acid in Ethan's voice could corrode even gold, "You formed this department out of benevolence and hospitality! You did so that we could help people suffering from mysteries of human nature...you created this team out of honesty and truth." His eyes were so cold that sneakily running away from this hospital— no, the whole country felt a better option, "And you destroyed it, along with me."
Naveen took a stunned footstep back, bumping into me. The distress in his face along with strung out fervent tension reflected as if an electric eel was coiling around his stature and giving dreadful jolts of pulsating current. Dejection crossed upon his visage, bowing down to the drumfiring protégée of his. Naveen's emotions were condensed near me, rolling like a scared ship in stormy ocean with tides undulating of betrayal and hurt. Ethan was hurt...his face concealed the pain but his eyes, that blue luster flickered different tints restlessly. He always used his words like fiery whips when vulnerable, scalding everything existing to ruined ambers in front.
"I did no such thing, Ethan." In a small voice, Naveen spoke minutes later of silence, "To help those people you talk, we need Edenbrook. And this is how we are going to work from now on, whether you like it or not."
And with that, he turned away not meeting our unsettled looks. I no longer was happy about this prospect; I simply couldn't be...not when it brought ardent distress to Ethan. Naveen was almost shaking towards the bend of hallway where eyes followed but none like white-hot torrid resentment of Ethan Ramsey who himself was artlessly uncertain at sudden implacable turn of events. The file in his hands was threatened to be torn into minuscule pieces.
"This wasn't supposed to happen." He said, turning to me, "This isn't right."
I gulped, keeping silence as my shield since I knew of nothing else nearby to protect me from his wrath.
"You know what that means, right?" he continued in a chilled tone, chilling like the worst frost-storm, "Our department's gonna get all glitterati of this country who can shove thousands of dollars without any remorse. It doesn't matter to them." He forced me to look up to him by lifting my chin with his hands, "Are you happy now?"
It was impossible to tear my gaze off his beautiful pace which was equal shades of bitter and anger. Hot like searing coal and acrid like thorns, such were his expression. And of course, the mark of betrayal— not only at me, but also at his mentor who never informed him about the necessity meeting.
"Ethan...You know Naveen would've never done this if there was another option." I gently said, raising my hands to touch his hold on my face, "But this time, there isn't."
Swash...this isn't good.
He bitterly laughed, shaking his head, "This is where the world is wrong. There is always an option better than worse, always. You just can't see it because you don't want to." He shoved the files in my hand, "And this is why the world burns."
He brushed past me, staggering me to silence. I felt being under eye of hurricane, the deadly calm phase which barely concealed the whirlwind of vexation which had just passed. There was little to do to contain it from barraging. This day was a different kind of bad, a shuddersome challenge of my wits.
The satisfaction of gaining precious months more for community clinic died somewhere with his fading steps behind me...almost similar to soft reverting dying heartstrings. Because no matter how much happy or sad or angry or bothered it made me from anything...it was nothing, simply nothing compared to the agony in my heart seeing Ethan Ramsey walking away from me.
---------------
Ethan didn't talk to me the whole day, not even when we were doing post-diagnosis reporting session in conference room. Baz, obvious to what had thrown down kept his lips shut while June was keenly interested in testing the tension between me and Ethan. Both of us never gave much to her which would fuel further of her intruding nature. And at end of session, June and Baz left....I stood to say something but Ethan silenced me with a virulent look.
Rest of my time was effete in working— I mean, sitting in community clinic and providing more medications for seasonal flu and fever. The hostility of that virus in our country had begun spreading its ill-natured panic surge which accomplished with people choosing a visit to hospital upon daily basis.
Weeks into the community clinic made me a machine. My mind stayed focused to my patients and in between the breaks, rather than excusing myself for air— I just sat and thought. Sat and thought about the day or future or anything to just make sure I was still a person, not losing empathy towards my patients. I've seen doctors talking to deceased patient's families as an obligation, lacking skills to console them with proper emotional symmetry. I've seen doctors regarding corpses as inanimate matter, forgone that once upon a time it was a living person. I've seen doctors losing sanity after spending years in their medical careers. I've seen them becoming monsters.
And I've seen Ethan being angry on me for the first time since our relationship started. It was ugly.
I felt like a doe trapped in hunter's net, the same hunter who promised to let me go. I felt trapped by his anger and resentment, felt invaluable enough to be ignored by him. Whatever I proposed was to make sure Edenbrook stood still for the years to come so that none of us would lose our precious jobs. It made me sick to see people who need the most being optioned as second but desperate times called for desperate measures, and for now we had to live with it. I wasn't the only one who was taken aback by the deal. There were excellent doctors like Dr. Tanaka, Naveen and even Wilcock who would be unpleased by this decision but at least none of them were going berserk like Ethan was. I couldn't understand why he won't just let it go for once. For once, for this hospital...us, patients and everyone.
His anger back then in intern year was different. That was legit...but this felt as if a bubble of fuse was expanding between us and with his secrets...as well as mine, I was worried who was making the mistake here. Perhaps both of us. Perhaps none of us.
Late afternoon, I walked like a little-dejected snail towards ER to check on Esme. Inside the hospital, you could never know what the weather was outside. Besides general ambient temperature and irritating ever-present scent of lemon polish, there was nothing more to expect from nature to whisk me off in its bubbly comfort. Sometimes inside this huge pentagonal infrastructure, I longed to feel the rays of sun or get grazed by the moving breeze. Even an open space would do the trick rather than lingering in thick atmosphere of sickness and angry boyfriend.
In the atrium, ceiling fifteen floors above gave an obstructive glimmer of daylight through its panel-mosaic glasses which covered the top like a shimmering dome. And except that, there was only whiteness and wailing, relentless doctors and ranting patients.
Before I reached ER, noisy claps reverted through. I pushed the door and found a circle of interns around Esme, patting on her shoulders and cheering for her. She was taken aback by display and her face was flushed with pink. Nearby to them, Ines was trying to console a crestfallen Zaid.
"What's happening?" I asked, making my way to the group.
One of the interns whom I didn't knew whooped at me, "There she is! The best mentor you can ever ask!"
Another round of cheering went on, this time directed at a very surprised me.
I tried to smile but...it never came through, "Okay. Okay, can anyone explain what the matter of celebration here is?"
"I'll tell you, Dr. Turner!" Sothy excitedly proclaimed, "Dr. Mirani misdiagnosed a patient! Esme saved him from a court martial."
"What?!" I exclaimed as well, turning to Zaid, "You...?"
Zaid scowled at me and waved Ines off, "Go on, Turner. You have it at me as well!"
Some other day, I definitely would've but today...I wasn't very me-like. So I just forced a mocking smile, "I'm sure you've had a stressful day, Dr. Mirani. Nothing like Dr. Delarosa couldn't cure, isn't it?"
"Right, Charlotte." Ines dragged Zaid with her, "Come on you, we've got some more interns to catch." By that, I sent a silent prayer that Zaid's slip off wouldn't be directed at innocent interns who verily had a chance of being roasted by him.
Back to the group, "What was the diagnosis?"
Esme shyly said, "Dr. Mirani made the conclusion that the patient had fibromyalgia and prescribed duloxetine. There was join pain and fatigue but no history of prolonged symptoms."
"Ah." I understood, "Got it crossed with lupus?"
"He so did." Esme ranted, "That would've been so grave! I mean we're talking about lupus!" she addressed the crowd of interns, "Dr. Turner's very first advice was to filter out commonly misdiagnosed illness and always keep a personal chart, updating with every new discovery. It absolutely worked wonders!"
"Where did you learn it, Dr. Turner?" a female intern asked.
I tugged on the lapels of my coat, "Nowhere actually. It's a thing I do, note down stuff I learn anywhere— pen or tablet. My first patient almost went to coma because I prescribed her wrong medication." I gave them a brief narration about Annie's case, "And from then on, first day itself I began making these note-copies where I made writings about diseases, their almost every symptoms, tests, diagnosis and treatment. Therapy as well. Once I did it, I began transferring them to a separate copy, filtering them on the basis of their similar spectrum of symptoms. But now, I do everything in my tablet."
"Isn't that...really boring?" Sothy made a face.
"Better be bored than losing your license." Esme deadpanned.
Lupus and fibromyalgia were two very common misdiagnosed diseases, often crossed with each other. Both had similar symptoms of joint pain, fatigue and soreness, even anxiety and depression. In fibromyalgia, the pain often lasted for long periods. Sometimes, the pain would not be felt, like lupus until it attacked like a cannon. You have eleven tender spots in body with fibromyalgia which were extraordinarily sensitive to pain and it could be mistaken as lupus because the spots were close to lungs, heart, muscles and kidneys where lupus affected.
In lupus, the best way to confirm it's build up was an expensive but extremely specific test called anti-double-stranded DNA test or anti-dsDNA which would provide conclusive result for this autoimmune disease. And it could be treated only via very powerful immunosuppressive drugs containing cyclophosphamides or mycophenolates and azathioprine.
"You're right. Amazing job Esme!" a tall male intern shouted and was followed by more huzzahs. I found Esme shifting on her toes, keeping her gaze duly away from the attention. Inside, my heart swelled with pride for my intern, for such an amazing doctor she was who would one day surely become an excellent diagnostician. However her troubles were, she tried her best to keep them out during her duty which was admirable enough.
And because of this, a smile finally broke on my face, "Good job, Esme. I'm proud of you."
"You are?" she whispered as her fellow interns dispersed for their respective duties.
"I am." I gave her a gentle squeeze on shoulders, "Although, I am more proud that you gave Zaid the dressing-reset he needed."
"Yo, Esme!" Sothy shouted over his shoulders, "We're heading to Donohue. Wanna join us?"
She chewed her lips, peering at her tablet, "I've got...five more patients to check." Her eyes dabbed back and forth between the group of expecting interns and her patients. But there was interest to join them, I could see and well, I supported it as well.
"Go on." I jerked at the group, "I'll take care of your patients."
I was met with an astonished expression over her face, "You...will?"
"I will." I pitched close to her, "Remember, I told you to make friends because they'll stand with you when needed to be. Trust me, when I came here first, everyone was a stranger to me and skepticism was what I threw them in bucket of but then I realized...sometimes there are things you can't do alone. You need others."
Esme's eyes suddenly became shiny, "I-I...thank you."
And then she threw her arms around me.
Surprised at first, I welcomed her in an embrace and took comfort from her as well without knowledge. I really needed to be allayed by someone after Rafael's suspension and Bryce's discloser and Ethan's bitter words. Esme wasn't the one I expected, but at this moment...there wasn't anyone else I would trade for.
"Nobody has been this kind to me for years, Charlotte." She spoke near my ears, "But you've always been kind to me. I don't deserve you."
I forced her back to get a look on her face, "No, Esme. I am proud to have you as my intern, and I told you, I'll always be there for you."
"Thank you so much, again." She sniffed and flashed me one of those rare simpers before transferring her cases to my application and heading out with her prospective friends. I wondered what was actually wrong with her, the reason for her to feel suspicious of everybody. It was her personal business of course, but I never wanted her to be in a position where her own problems would hinder in profession. That was my greatest fear, not only for her...but also for me. That fear finally unlocking dangerous contents of my vault with has the capacity to paralyze me. I feared if those things flooded in my brain, I would forget who I was even. Forget and remember the things I did. Things I couldn't remember now, but they existed.
Only then when interns disappeared, I found myself alone in the emergency room.
I wanted to be separated from my body, as a carefree spirit to go brazen in my realm of requiescence. The day was passing as if earth suddenly decided to rotate more slowly— pour more hours on top of my exhaustion. I was tired, both physically and mentally. Yesterday took a major toll on me which burdened my mental state with doleful hapless thoughts. You could always sit down when your legs hurt, or shut your eyes when fatigued. But your mental exhaustion was a bitch to battle with, especially when her lieutenants were depressing prospect of a resenting boss lurking around and a guy-friend having a terrible family secret. And a friend getting suspended for his bravery.
I wasn't a machine, but I had my duties. And on I went doing so in patient-filled emergency room.
---------------
Like a snail I came, like a snail I went.
Esme's patients were done for day and everything was updated. My tablet chimed with notifications but none of them sorted as priority. My pager was silent as well, a gift which I thanked Apollo for. With the pace of above mentioned mollusca, I slithered through atrium and sagged down on a couch in waiting longue, trying to just snap my eyes shut for a moment.
I am not sleeping. I just need to rest for a moment...it's tiring...too tiring.
My phone vibrated.
"Fuck you too, world." I cursed and double cursed again when I found that it was a mail from my mother, targeted urgent. Exhaling, I opened it.
Dear Charlotte,
I know you are angry on me. You have the right to be. I understand the terrible deeds of mine which I made befall upon you from the moment memories rose in your mind. I have been absent and neglectful all through your childhood, and abusive when you grew along. Hope for forgiveness is lost within me, and I would not expect it from you as well. These days, I spend sitting beside your father and looking at our miserable existence. Something I never bothered to eradicate. Something I never bothered to be brave enough to leave behind and start a life new for you.
But you don't know the story, Charlotte. You don't know how your parents met and what happened between them. You don't know the reason I am unwilling to leave your father's side till his last breath. A sick reason I never protected you from his assaults and bore his strikes on me. You have the right to be angry on me, but once upon a time...no, I can't write that. I can't bring forth myself to type those memories in form of mere words. They can only be shared from my voice.
Whatever you think of me, know that I love you.
You are my daughter, and you always will be till my last breath. And all I am asking is for a chance to listen my side of story. There are many things you don't know about our families, many secrets which are buried deep. But now its time for you to know them.
I pled you again, your father has no more time left. It feels he's clinging to a hope of seeing you one last time before fading. His cancer has taken control of his lungs and has spread to organ systems. Come sooner, Charlotte.
Yours awaiting,
Mother
I stared at the screen unblinking for what felt like hours. There were those junctures when you felt the world too un-freaking-believable to be true. As if your rational mind was done with being labored and now blanketed deluded hope. But the longer I stared, the more I realized those words were real. Her words struck right where they were directed— at my heart, and only the presence of people in longue prevented me from scattering like millions of sobbing particles.
Why couldn't there be a day for me without worries? Why couldn't there be a time when I could just have peace? Why couldn't there be a moment when everything wouldn't be falling upon me like an avalanche?
Many times, I thought that definition of sour luck could be explained through my example. Every day was a dramatic satire for me, in the place I worked, in the place I stayed, in the planet I thrived and with the people I lived. Never, never in my life have I ever felt normal enough to just switch off world away and rest my head on a soft pillow, losing myself in content dreams. Not thinking about anything or anyone...just a moment for me. Not thinking about my buried secrets and just a moment for me.
It's unfair! My mind cried out, has been unfair from the beginning!
That mail felt as if my mother had a personality reconstruction treatment. That mail was the closest thing she ever gifted me in form of affection and care in years. And she wrote that she loved me...wait, it was the first time in almost seven years since she told those words. She...loved me. My mother...loved me?
Oh Apollo...how much I longed to even have those words on screen. How much I—
"Charlotte?"
Diverting my head from phone, I found Rafael standing forth of me.
Dressed in a dark blue jacket which was zipped to neck, he looked more like a racer than paramedic. His hair was windblown and cheeks flushed from chill. But well, it was him standing so I suppressed the longing feeling for mother within me— like I always did and got up.
"Rafael! What are you doing here?"
"Getting my official suspension letter, I suppose." He vacantly informed, "I was passing through when I found you almost passed out here. Is everything alright?"
"No. Nothing is alright." I veered, "How can they suspend you when it's my fault!"
He probed a look of confusion, "Your...fault?"
The angry monkey in me jumped, "Yes! My fault! If I hadn't been so thrill-seeking reckless individual, you guys could've saved them in time far less and..and..." I stopped at his puzzled expression.
"Charlotte, I don't know what you are talking about but you have nothing to do with my suspension." Rafael grabbed me by shoulders, "My superintendent had already warned me about this. In fact, I wasn't supposed to be in the scene. My suspension was before the accident and the reason I arrived was because we were men short in hand. Boss had no option but to call in every reserved personnel."
"Wh-What?"
"The notice of me and my colleague's benching had arrived before the accident." He patted me on head, "You have nothing to do with it, but my behavior on the scene was absolutely unprofessional." His eyes fell to the floor, "I should've seen that the beams were in tattered conditions."
"No!" I protested, "How could you've even known!"
"I should have. It's my job to assert the infrastructure, isn't it?" he countered, "I was already frustrated because of my benching and with that guy bugging my head beside me, you in a dangerous ground...and then falling..." he gulped, "Oh god, I can't stop the scene from being replayed in my mind. Both of you...just falling into the river below."
"I am alive." I blurted out, "I am fine. Alive, Rafael....it's not your fault, no matter whoever says ...it's not. I know it's not because you couldn't waste your time studying a place when people all around cried and needed help."
Rafael scratched his head, "I do owe you apology, for my behavior and Sora's in the mall. Those words were not for you...they just came out."
"Let's not fuss over that." I gripped my coat with both hands, pulling on them, "I've forgotten that. I hope Sora is doing well?"
He winced, "Too well for living actually. She's pissed about suspension and double pissed because now she has to look for jobs." He gestured at the atrium, "Your shift's not over yet? It's nine already."
I blinked, "What?" checked my watch, "Holy Apollo!"
"I think you should head home, it's pretty late." Rafael said, "Do you want a ride?"
"You drive?" I asked in a hopeful voice. Because a walk from hospital down South Boston would kill me and there was a chance that I may wake up late tomorrow morning and hear an earful more from Ethan which I couldn't guzzle.
Rafael flashed an apologetic look, "No. I'm sorry, Charlotte. Sora's taken the car and bike's still in garage. I was hoping to get you a cab."
"Sure thing." I mused, "As long as I don't have to endure my walk of burnout."
He chuckled, "Alright. Let me..." he took a few seconds to book the rental, "Got it. I wish I could come with you to see at home, but I've got a meeting with my superintendent here." He gave me a mock glare, "Is this look enough to change his mind about me?"
"He will throw more days upon you." I snorted, "I am ready to roast him if you want though."
"I'll take on that." He smiled, "Gotta go. But you travel safe, alright? You've got my number and you know to call me if anything goes south."
I smiled coyly, "Pretty sure nothing is going south today since the bridge is gone."
"Smart-ass." He gave me a playful shove, "But still."
"Yup. When in danger, call for Rafael the Heroic Paramedic!" I saluted.
---------------
I gave my biometric submission and took path across the atrium in direction front entrance where my cab waited. My attention was on my phone— the mail I received from mom which I read fixatedly. Those words felt so unreal that I wanted to pinch the life out of me to make sure it was her who had sent this email. It was her who—
"Whoa!"
Suddenly I was on the floor, fallen from the collision. It was not hard but impactful enough to send me mopping as well as the person who was lying near me with contents of her scattered. Reeling back, I found it to be none other than Jackie.
"Charlotte!" she rubbed her shoulder, "Why are still here and—" she lifted my face up, "Eyes up to world when walking."
I blanched, "Sorry. Wasn't looking. Here, let me help you."
Still crouching, I took a hold of her scope and a pharmacy bag from which meds had dispersed on floor. Jackie and I reached for chart at same time but I was quicker, and grabbed it. Just as I was about to hand it to her, my eyes fell on the prescription and then at medicines.
The meds...they were of Panacea Labs.
Panacea Labs.
Jackie watched me steadfastly, "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing." I replied, handing it to her, "Nothing."
Honestly? It was no surprise that half of drugs in Edenbrook would be sponsored by that company since they were our major pharmaceutical shareholder. I almost expected that pharmacies here would be upturned on names to Panacea itself, now that they were branching into our hospital like snaky vines.
But you know what? I've had enough today to even think about a company trying to take over or something. That matter could be revisited when I was not on the verge of collapsing.
"Here you go." I handed her the meds, "I am leaving. Good night, Jackie."
She frowned, "Are you alright?"
I nodded, "Been a day. Take care."
Ride back to apartment framed out of memory in daze since I had closed the earth to me and dozed off in backseat. Rational sensing cautioned it was absolutely unwise to fall asleep when navigating through streets of Boston with a stranger, especially so late at night but sometimes...I shouldn't be so suspicious about everyone who came across. I was just sickly tired to even think more. And thankfully, when the car halted, my apartment was looming outside.
My steps were jittery, laden with dullness. Eyes sought to use elevator but fear clamped it down and forced me to climb five floors above. One day, I will successfully combat my fear— I pledged myself. One day, I will make everything right.
Before entering the flat, I took out my phone and began typing a message.
I know you are angry on their decision, but think about all the patients. Without Edenbrook, they can't be treated, Ethan. Be angry on me or Naveen. Don't be furious on the decision which could help everyone. – Charlotte.
With a final look on the screen, I unlocked apartment door.
----------------------
Will this small rift between Ethan and Charlotte give rise to an inevitable outcome?
The decision has been made and wealthy patients will be brought to DD. How will everyone balance this act of desperation and take control of people who have the capacity to control the whole hospital?
Stay Tuned and Stay Safe.