Page 38 of The Groupie

I join Suzie, and we follow the nurse into the examining room, leaving Ted and Zak behind without a second glance.

* * *

The doctor, a woman named Marion Zola, snaps her gloves off at the conclusion of the thorough exam. The nurse took blood samples, but the toughest part of the process was watching Mamma try to breathe deeply. And the coughing. We all return to the waiting room, but only for a moment.

“Please come to my office,” the doctor says from the doorway. She nods in the direction of Ted and Zak and summons them to join us. With my arm around Mamma, I use all my concentration to follow the doctor into her office and have no fucks to give about Zak right now.

“I’ll cut straight to the chase, Ms. Mooney. We’ll need to wait for the chest X-rays to confirm a diagnosis of emphysema, also known as COPD, and rule out other lung conditions. And we’ll run Arterial Blood Gases Analysis. These blood tests measure how well your lungs transfer oxygen to your bloodstream and remove carbon dioxide. But there’s little doubt that you have emphysema.”

“So?” Mamma says.

I pat her back as my chest tightens, ironically constricting my ability to breathe. “What does that mean?” I manage to say. “What can you do for her?” My heart pounds, and I force my lungs to work, deepening my breathing to calm myself as I stare at the doctor, certain she has an answer, foolishly or not.

“We can do a V/Q lung scan, or ventilation/perfusion scintigraphy, a type of medical imaging using scintigraphy and medical isotopes to evaluate air and blood circulation within the lungs in order to determine the ventilation/perfusion ratio.

“Depending on the results, we can possibly do a bronchoscopic thermal vapor ablation. This surgery uses heated water vapor to target affected lobe regions of the lung—the damage can cause permanent fibrosis and volume reduction. The procedure can target individual lobe segments and be carried out regardless of collateral ventilation. The ablation can be repeated with the natural advance of emphysema.”

“Advance?” Suzie’s voice squeaks, and I hear the emotion. Nowicki puts an arm around her.

The doctor nods. “Yes. This isn’t a curable disease. We can treat it to slow the progress, but lung damage from emphysema is irreversible.”

The silence that follows her words booms through my head, and the room goes dark as a buzzing sounds in my ears. The sensation of falling startles me until arms wrap around me violently, and my eyes pop open.

Zak’s strong arms hold me, and I’m leaning against him, all eyes on me. I pant, unable to speak.

“Are you all right, Rylee?” Mamma says, touching me, her eyes wide and larger than usual behind her glasses. “Everything’s going to be fine. You heard the doc. I’ll get treatment.” She coughs.

Tears spring to my eyes, but I squeeze them shut and break free from Zak’s hold to throw my arms around Mamma.

“Of course, you’ll be fine.” I rein in the tears that threaten and straighten. You’re the strong one, aren’t you? Haven’t you always been? Mamma and Suzie don’t need you to turn into a simpering puddle.

I dart a glance at Suzie to see her swipe a tear from her face as she leans into Ted’s side. He kisses her temple and murmurs something.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Dr. Zola says. “I’ll write you a prescription for a bronchodilator to help with the coughing, and we’ll make an appointment for you to come back next week after we get the results of the tests.”

“What happens then?” I ask with a slight shake to my voice. I don’t want to know, but I need to know. Fear has me wanting to bolt or to hide in Mamma’s arms, or to bury myself in Zak’s arms and let him bury himself in me, to lose myself in the moment of bliss… Shit.

“We’ll likely do the V/Q lung scan and then possibly the bronchoscopic thermal vapor ablation. But first steps first.” She turns to Mamma and puts a stern look on her face, all clinical neutrality gone. “You need to quit smoking. As of today. As of right now.”

Mamma stares back at the doctor, and her mouth quivers for a second, but then she lifts her chin and nods. “See you next week.”

Everyone files out of the doctor’s office, but I hang back. There’s a question drumming in my head, relentlessly demanding an answer and getting louder and more insistent. I face the doctor as she sits behind her desk, typing some notes.

“Doctor Zola,” I say, my voice strong and calm and insistent with my need for an answer despite the stark fear pulling at the periphery of my awareness. I shove the fear aside for this one moment and allow the bravery to make me vulnerable to devastation. My need for the real-real, for dealing in truth and danger, overrides the emotional residue of my past. I’m on borrowed time, right? This is what life is about, meeting every minute of it on real terms and not living in some cocoon of illusions.

“What is it, Ms. Flynn?” The startle of how she knows my name doesn’t derail me, but I take an extra breath of life for reinforcement.

“What is her long-term prognosis?” I close my eyes and give myself shit. Then I rephrase my question. “How long does she have to live?”

“The average life expectancy of someone your mother’s age is approximately five years.” She stops talking although she looks like she has more to say, all kinds of qualifiers and exceptions no doubt, but she can see that I don’t want the bullshit.

The news hits me, and I nod, absorbing the shock like a numb person, and allowing it to bounce off me. In my detached state, I can see the future moment when the reality might sink in, might pain me like a stab to the heart, but I can’t feel it right now. Can’t do anything about that. It’s like I’ve given myself an anesthetic. Maybe my body is instinctively wiser than my mind.

“Thank you.”

I walk out of her office to find everyone waiting. Zak comes to me without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry, Rylee,” he murmurs in my ear.

“I have to go. To take Mamma home.” I sound like a robot, and I don’t like it. When I look into his eyes and I see the empathy, the emotion, I feel myself buckle, so I pull away from him. Not now. Not here.

“I’ll call you,” he says.

I don’t care. I walk away with Mamma and Suzie, our family closing ranks to lean on each other, to handle the damage. Temporarily.