Me: I know, I know. I’ll tell them after she confirms.
Natalie: You’re a shitty liar. And your mom is a maniac.
Me: I hate that I can’t tell them.
Natalie: You’re gonna have to. Soon. We’ll talk tomorrow. Lupus is treatable. Stop Googling.
Me: You’re like Evan with the eyes in back of your head.
Natalie: No, I just know you. Love you. Everything will be fine.
Me: Love you, too. See you tomorrow.
“Paige! Put the damn phone down and come and eat.” My mother’s shrill voice filled my ears. Rather than yell back at her, I set my phone down and rushed to the table.
I sat between Evan and my mother and both looked me over with worried eyes. I hated lying to the two most important people in my life. And hated even more that I felt like I had no choice.
My head spun as Dr. Stephens spewed through the last of my test results. It wasn’t a surprise, but knowing something for sure is much different than merely suspecting it. Again, I sat on the examining table with my fidgety legs crackling the paper beneath me.
And again, I was all alone.
“As I suspected, you have systemic lupus. The inflammation levels are very high, as are the levels of protein in your urine.” Dr. Stephens held my file in her hand as she gazed at me from the desk.
“I’m sorry, what does that mean?”
“It means lupus may be affecting your kidneys. I’ll watch it for the moment, but if it’s still high when you come back in a couple of weeks, we’ll need to do more tests, maybe even a biopsy.”
“My kidneys?” My voice was shrill as panic set in. Everything had gone downhill with my health over the past six months, but since Jack died it seemed to be picking up speed.
Dr. Stephens grimaced. In the short time I’d been in her presence I’d learned that wasn’t a good sign.
“Could mean a lot of things. Sometimes lupus can affect the kidneys to the point they fail, and patients need a transplant. But that’s getting way ahead of ourselves. At the moment, this is just another complication we need to watch out for. The x-ray showed your lungs have fluid in them, so I’d like you to see a pulmonologist.”
More doctors. This was getting better and better. I raked my hand through my hair and sighed as I looked up at the ceiling.
Dr. Stephens scribbled on a few pages in her notepad and stood up to hand them to me.
“I’m going to start you on a moderate dose of medication for now.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been flaring since October. It may take a while, but we’ll get you out of it one way or the other. In the meantime, I need you to be very careful about catching infections. If you get another fever, call me right away and either come to my office or head to the emergency room.” I nodded as I hopped off the table and shoved the prescriptions in my purse.
“Can anyone come with you to appointments? This is a lot to keep track of and can be a little scary.”
“No.” There was no way Evan or my mother could come with me. I could almost hear the clicking of mom’s tongue against her teeth while she laced into me. What’s the matter with me? Why didn’t I see a specialist sooner? She’d be right, but I didn’t need to hear any of it right now. Taking Evan with me wouldn’t do any good either. He would completely panic, and he’d already been putting a ton of pressure on himself running Taylor’s Flooring alone. I couldn’t bother him with this.
I didn’t tell anyone when my follow up with Dr. Stephens was so I wouldn’t be grilled afterwards. I lived a secret life now, and made sure I kept my stories straight. My phone buzzed in my purse as I opened my car door.
“Paige! The client loved your designs so much, they want to do a new banner campaign based on what you came up with!” The excitement in my boss’s voice was infectious. I smiled when a loud “squee” filled my ears.
“Wow, that’s great Trish. I’d been dying to do more display ads. When do we start?” I turned on my Bluetooth before I pulled out of the spot.
“ASAP, my little golden child. Can you come into the office on Monday?”
Shit. This new project sounded like it might entail long days of commuting and endless meetings. I didn’t go in to the office much these days and spoke to my agency and freelance clients via email or over the phone. Even though I had the advantage of still looking healthy, but I sure as hell didn’t feel that way. Some days, climbing the stairs of the six train to go into the city seemed as daunting as trekking up Everest.
“Not sure I can be someone’s golden child in my thirties, but sure, Trish. I’ll see you Monday at nine o’clock.”
“Fabulous! This looks like the start of a lot more work from this client, and we haven’t had a client with this much potential for opportunity in a long time. The account team is over the moon—this could mean big things, Paige!”
Covering up how bad I felt had been easy to this point. Evan awoke before I did every morning, so he didn’t see me struggle with the joint pain that greeted me for the first two hours of each day. I lied to friends who asked me to go out and said I was busy, because if one more person asked me why I was limping, I would lose it.
I had days when it wasn’t so bad, but then, without warning, it would come back—the pain, the fatigue, the overall feeling of ‘sick’. I took the most advantage I could out of good days, and pretended the best I could on the bad. Today so far was a decent day, and I prayed that would carry over through the weekend.
The old Paige would have been right up there with the account team. This was a chance to get my designs in front of a ton of new people. However, the Paige I was now already dreaded the long hours and back and forth travel. How much more happiness would be drained from my life before I started to feel better? I had no doubt it was just the tip of the iceberg.
I would just tell Mom and Evan that I had a weak immune system. It wasn’t a complete and total lie. Weak immune system, chronic and debilitating autoimmune disease—potato/potahtoe. The longer I waited, the worse it would be to admit, yet I couldn’t make myself do it. Telling my family made my condition more real than I was ready to acknowledge. I thought once I got it under control, then I would tell Evan and my mother, but that didn’t look like it was happening anytime soon.
Instead of going straight home, my car ended up parked in front of Evan’s office. I needed to see his face. Everything looked very different as I strolled in. Jessica was a fantastic organizer, everything was spotless and in its place.
Laughter traveled out to the storefront as I crept into the back office. Jessica and Evan were laughing about something, and seeing them by her desk—Jack’s old desk—unnerved me. Did I think anything was going on between them? No. But I sure as hell wasn’t fun these days. I wanted to be the one to laugh with Evan again without a care in the world. The constant dark cloud over my head prevented me from doing that.
“Hey guys!” I plastered a big smile on my face and ignored the urge to tell Jessica to find somewhere else to sit. Jack’s business was his baby, and although I was delighted it was still doing well, it broke my heart to see it going on without him.
“Hi Paige, how are you? Thanks for filling out that paperwork for me.” Jack always kept the work I did for him easy. I’d design something and he paid me whatever we agreed on. Now, I had vendor forms along with other documents to fill out before I could do any more designing for Evan. Jessica really cracked the whip, but since she was helping Evan, I did whatever she asked.