The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

The small movement of taking hold of the left breast caused Clair to cry out. The pain was intense. Megan gently released her hold, easing Clair away from the machine.

‘Let’s stop,’ Megan said. ‘This won’t work. We need another tool here. Something that won’t hurt so bad. Are you OK?’ she asked, laying her warm hand on Clair’s arm.

Tears came to her eyes, unbidden, unwanted.

‘Yeah, I guess I’m OK. What now? She said, stepping back, covering herself up again.

‘Clair, we need Dr Michaels here. I think we will switch to an ultrasound examination. It will be less painful and also provide us with a better picture. Can you and Linda wait here for a bit? I’ll give Dr Michaels a call. It shouldn’t take long. Can I bring you anything? Coffee? Tea?’

What could she say? She was their prisoner. Their mental patient. Did she even want to know?

After what seemed like an hour but was only ten minutes, another woman entered their exam room. She was also tall, like Megan, but so slender, it seemed she might break in two, like a twig. When she extended her hand for Clair to take, it felt strong, capable. Clair liked her immediately. Her hair was short, curly, brown with specks of gray. She wore no make-up, and her eyes shone with intelligence and kindness through wire-framed rectangular glasses.

‘Dr Mercer, hello. I’m Sarah Michaels, radiologist. I am sorry that you’re having this problem today and I’m going to do all I can to help you through the examination so we can know what is happening in your breast. How does that sound?’

Linda had reached over and placed an arm on Clair’s shoulder, as though to steady her.

‘Do I have a choice?’

Dr Michaels sat down on the seat beside Clair. ‘Yes, you do have a choice. In fact, I have a consent form here for you to sign. This exam is invasive. First, we will locate the mass using ultrasound. Then a technician will insert a large needle and aspirate fluid for biopsy. It may be uncomfortable and we can give you a light sedative, if you would like. It’s the best way for us to determine if that lump in your breast is cancer or not.’

‘And if I refuse, what then?’ Clair asked, gazing into the other woman’s steady brown eyes.

‘Well, if this is cancer, it will get worse. It will most likely spread throughout your body. The fact that it came up suddenly, is painful, and the area around it is red, makes me think that it might be a form called inflammatory breast cancer. If so, you will need to get started right away on treatment.’

‘And if I don’t want treatment?’ Clair asked, feeling a bit like a stubborn two-year-old talking about eating her vegetables.

‘Well, I don’t know, Clair. Every individual is unique, every cancer is unique. Maybe we should just take this one step at a time. Beginning with an ultrasound exam to clearly visualize the area in your breast that is causing the pain and redness. May I touch you?’

Dr Michaels pulled back the kimono, exposing the left breast. She gently palpated the reddened area. Clair winced but didn’t pull back.

‘I can feel a hardened area. Clair, we will need to biopsy this area to know if it is cancer or something else, like an infectious process. We need to know before you can make any sort of informed decision about what comes next. Can we do that today?’ Dr Michaels asked.

Clair looked at Linda. ‘Do you need to get back to the unit? Can you stay with me?’ she asked.

‘I’ll call over. Let them know what’s happening. I’ll stay, Clair.’

‘OK, then, let’s get this done.’

Chapter 12

Adam

The drive over the Coastal Range mountains to Eugene took Adam close to an hour. This time of year, the river was low from lack of rain, gurgling over the rocks and fallen debris. The hillsides were dotted with sheep and grown offspring, many still trying to nurse, even though often bigger than their ewes. Cows, horses, llamas, and goats lay about under large oak trees, soaking up the last of the late summer sun. Weathered barns and outbuildings caught the shadows, inviting reverie for times past.

He felt twisted inside out, hungover, depleted. Still wearing the same shirt and jacket, pants, even socks he had on at the bar last night, he knew he smelt of beer, smoke, and old sweat. He had closed the place down, playing pool with the bikers, dancing with the woman who, like Cohen sang, must have been a hundred but was wearing something tight. He didn’t remember how he had gotten home. He had woken up, head throbbing, mouth dry, his phone alarm jangling. When he had looked at the calendar reminder, it said to pick up Ben and Jodie at the airport at 6 p.m. It was 4.30 and he knew the drive would take at least an hour or more, depending on traffic and road work. Somehow, he made it in under an hour.

Ben was the first to emerge from the security area. Jodie close behind, both wearing backpacks and carrying large canvas totes. Not for the first time he marveled at how different they were and yet, banded together for many years now. But maybe that had been as much circumstance as character. Ben took after their mother, small, pale complexion, hips wide, almost feminine. Clair had inherited her father’s height, aristocratic personage, but not his arrogance. Jodie’s skin and bone structure showed off her South African heritage. Her father, an Anglican bishop during apartheid, had moved the family first to South Carolina, where they were granted protected status, and later to Washington. Jodie’s accent mixed her original Afrikaans, with deep south and her own unique musical and articulate voice. Beautiful and kind, she was a strong balance for Ben’s quick-fire nature.

They wanted to go straight to the hospital, not stopping at