Saving Meghan(28)

New hope blossomed inside me. Not only did I think Dr. Nash was going to find a cure, but she was also going to become my friend. More than that, I felt she was going to be someone in whom I could eventually confide my secrets.





CHAPTER 13





BECKY


Becky stepped into Dr. Nash’s tidy office, which was tucked in a corner of the GI floor. Meghan was on her phone in the waiting room, perfectly occupied, but she should have been with her father. Becky simmered over the fact that Carl was not at the hospital with them, but no, he had too much work and could not bear to pull himself away for even a few hours to talk with a doctor about his daughter.

Damn him!

Their fight had lingered. His accusations continued to sting. Veronica had been right to question Carl’s transformation into the man she needed him to be.

Becky purged Carl from her thoughts in order to give Dr. Nash her full attention. She planned to record this conversation on her phone, with Dr. Nash’s permission, of course. The audio recordings were extremely helpful when needing to recall information verbatim.

In the back of her mind, Becky thought about the experimental mito drug, Elamvia. After this appointment, she had plans to meet Dr. Fisher to inquire about Meghan’s place in the line of patients eager to begin the clinical trial. She wondered if Dr. Nash’s diagnosis might bring up the possibility of a new experimental drug or treatment for them to consider.

For some reason—wiliness when it comes to mind games, age, a natural competitiveness—Becky had a harder time working an angle with young female doctors. It was not a question of ability, but her usual approaches often did not have the same effect. Making matters worse, Dr. Nash gave off all the warmth of an iceberg. Becky searched the doctor’s pretty face, peered into her muted brown eyes, but could not pinpoint a single trace of empathy or compassion.

She felt a niggling concern that Dr. Nash held her in some kind of contempt. She brushed away the worry as paranoia and nothing more. After so many setbacks, it was easy to see the worst in nearly every situation.

Becky searched the office for a picture of Dr. Nash’s family, a husband smiling in a silver frame, maybe two or three gorgeous kids—clearly, they’d be gorgeous. She wanted something that would give her some insight on the woman, not the doctor, but there was nothing to be found. A few small houseplants were the only clue that Dr. Nash cared for something other than her patients.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

Becky explained the value of the recording to Nash, who had no hesitation in giving her consent. Becky put her phone on the desk, launched her dictation app, and gave a nod to indicate that she was ready.

“I’m going to recommend that Meghan have an endoscopy, specifically an enteroscopy,” Dr. Nash began. She took off her glasses, cleaning the lens with a white cloth retrieved from a desk drawer.

Becky felt a stirring of surprise, but not because the procedure was unfamiliar to her. Meghan had already had an enteroscopy last year—certainly Dr. Nash had read that in her medical history. Becky wondered why she wanted to use the specialized instrument to view Meghan’s small intestine again.

“Do you think she has giardia?”

Becky knew without having to ask that the parasite was one common reason to order that particular test. It could explain Meghan’s stomach cramps, but did it address complaints of blurred vision?

“No, I don’t think she has giardia,” Dr. Nash replied coolly.

“Well, what, then? Why that test?”

Dr. Nash sighed aloud. “I’ll be candid with you, Mrs. Gerard. The test is more for my benefit than for Meghan’s.”

“Your benefit?”

“Yes, it would be irresponsible of me not to rule out all possibilities. So I’ll order the test, knowing in advance that it’s going to be negative.”

A hot streak raced up Becky’s spine. “And how do you know the results without first performing the test?” she asked.

Dr. Nash paused before answering.

Becky folded her arms low on her lap, a defensive posture.

“Mrs. Gerard—”

“Please, call me Becky.” Amanda Nash may have been younger, but Becky was not going to be ma’amed by her.

“Becky, then. What I’m going to say may be rather difficult for you to hear.”

The spurt of anger Becky had felt was quickly replaced with a fresh stab of fear. It’s cancer … it’s going to be cancer.

“I’ve spent considerable time reviewing your daughter’s … how to put it … rather extensive medical history, and there is a problem, but it’s not one I think you’ve considered.”

Becky braced herself. Again, the word “cancer” tumbled about her head like a wheel coming free of its axle.

“I’m postulating that there’s nothing wrong with Meghan. Nothing physical, anyway.”

Becky’s eyes narrowed, her expression incredulous. “What are you talking about? You said yourself that you read her file.”

“Yes, I read a lot of symptoms that don’t have any correlating explanation in terms of Meghan’s biology. Her labs, her blood work, all of it is fine.”

Becky heard Carl’s voice in her head: I’m not saying you’ve done it intentionally. I’m asking if we’ve created a self-fulfilling prophecy here.…