Page 78 of Rise Above

to kill yourself?”

She adjusted herself in the bed. “Sometimes the

pain gets so bad, I think it would be easier to just die. It hurts so much, but I don’t want to die right this very second.”

“Do you have any plans to kill yourself?”

“No.”

“How long have you felt this way?” I kept my voice

quiet and my tone even. I always tried to shy away from judgment.

“When the pain wouldn’t go away after three

months, I just started to hate my life. It just hurts all the time now. There’s no relief. It feels like an axe is in my head, and nothing treats it. They’ve given me so many narcotics, and they don’t do anything.” Tears began to stream down her face as she recalled what started all this. “I lost my peripheral vision like two months ago, but all my visual tests say I’m fine. The worst part is the fact I’m not 171

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sleeping. I go days and days without it, and that’s when the urge to die increases.”

Alarm bells started going off in my head. They were

ringing not because I believed the patient was actively or intensely suicidal, but due to her symptoms. I kept asking questions, making sure she was cleared psychologically and then left the room. Air was hard to suck in. I needed to find Bowie. My throat tightened, fear deep in my body.

“Aife, did you clear her?” It was like he knew.

Bowie took me in, seeing something in my eyes. “What’s going on?” Concern laced his voice. I guess the doctor had a soft spot for me.

“She’s cleared from an SI perspective. Two things,

though.” I tried to keep myself calm. The patient wasn’t me, and I had to keep thinking that.

“Sure.” He motioned for me to keep talking. “Did her MRI come back?”

Bowie walked off, headed toward a computer. I

followed after him. After a few clicks, he pulled up her completed MRI and began to read the radiology report and click through the images. We both looked at it, though I had no idea how to read it. The images just looked like any other brain to me. I was hoping something would just leap out at him, but it seemingly didn’t.

“What am I looking for here, Aife?” The imaging

must have just looked normal to him.

“Is there a cyst or tumor or growth of some kind on

her pineal gland?” I couldn’t believe I was voicing this. This was supposed to stay in Texas; none of this was

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supposed to follow me here. Chicago was supposed to be my safe zone away from the trauma I had dealt with.

Bowie poured over the MRI, clicking through the

images much slower now. “Yes, there is, actually. It’s a small one, about seven millimeters. Those are benign though, Aife.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Again, I couldn’t believe