Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
In imaging, the radiologist added gadolinium to her IV and explained that this contrast metal was going to help them see her brain better. She climbed onto the table and lay down, with her arms prone at her sides. The process was the same as the day before, but this time, Victor wasn’t there to make sure she had music playing. Instead, she heard the constant clicking of the machine, and wished for it to end quickly. They knew where the mass was; surely it shouldn’t take them that long to get pictures of it.
When it was finally over, and she was back on her bed, her heart rate picked up. This biopsy would be a first for her. In fact, she had made it her entire life without having any sort of surgery. The incident yesterday, along with the IV, MRI, and hospital stay, were all firsts for her. She was ready to stop having firsts now.
Once they’d wheeled her into the operating room, the scene surrounding her grew hectic. Everyone moved rapidly and barked orders at each other. Her eyes darted every which way as she tried to watch people move. The headrest lowered, and Palmer came eye to eye, albeit upside down, with a masked stranger.
“Hi, Palmer. I’m Dr. Garrison. My friends call me Simeon. I’m going to administer your anesthesia this morning.”
“Is this where I count backward from ten?”
Simeon laughed. “Or we could do something else. It’s your choice.”
“I don’t think it matters.”
“Everything matters, Palmer.”
What mattered was what was about to happen. The doctor was going to put a needle into her brain and take a sample. What if she didn’t wake up? What if she never got to go home? On her desk sat the envelope with the results of her DNA test. It had arrived weeks ago, yet she couldn’t bring herself to open it. She wanted to know if she had family, but what if she didn’t? All her life, she’d felt like someone out there missed her, but what if those feelings were self-induced and not from something greater? A tear leaked from her eye, and she reached up to wipe it away. She’d procrastinated, and now it was likely too late.
“Hi, Palmer,” Dr. Hughes said as she stepped to her bedside. “This procedure should only take an hour or so.”
“Are you going to shave my head?”
“Just a little spot. It won’t be noticeable.” Palmer wanted to balk, but said nothing. If everything mattered, everything was noticeable. Dr. Hughes nodded and Simeon started talking.
“Okay, Palmer, name all the US capitals for me.”
Palmer started, “Sacramento, Salem, Olympia . . .”
When Palmer opened her eyes, she was in a new room with a machine beeping next to her. She was groggy, but her head didn’t hurt like she’d expected. She raised her hand to feel around her skull but hesitated and dropped her arm back to her side. Palmer was easily grossed out by the littlest things, and this most certainly qualified as something that could gross her out.
There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Dr. Hughes came in and stood near the end of Palmer’s bed. “I’m happy to see you awake.”
“Did I die or something?”
“A sense of humor. I like it. No, you didn’t die. The procedure took under an hour. You have four small puncture wounds”—Dr. Hughes pointed to her forehead and the back of her head—“from the head ring, but those will heal nicely. You have sutures from where I conducted the biopsy, so no showering for a few days.”
“What are the results?”
Dr. Hughes inhaled deeply and pulled a chair from the corner to sit next to Palmer. “Most of the time, the results take a week to get back, but I put a rush on them after seeing your MRI.”
Palmer swallowed hard and nodded.
Dr. Hughes stood, pulled a film from her file, and placed it on the white box on the wall. She flicked a switch, and Palmer’s head appeared. “Your MRI showed a clawlike tumor here.” She pointed to the mass on the x-ray and then formed her hand into a claw to show Palmer what the tumor looked like. Dr. Hughes turned and faced Palmer. “After getting the preliminary results of the biopsy back and conferring with my colleagues, we’re confident in the diagnosis of a grade-four glioblastoma.”
Palmer heard the word, but was unable to fully process what Dr. Hughes said. “Gilo—”
“Glioblastoma, or GBM for short,” Dr. Hughes corrected. “The causes of a GBM are unknown. The tumor and your symptoms support our findings. However, if you want a second opinion, I can give you the names of my colleagues.”
“Would my diagnosis be different?”
Dr. Hughes shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“And the four means what?”
Dr. Hughes cleared her throat. “Grade one is nonmalignant, grade two is relatively nonmalignant, while grade three is low-grade malignancy.”