A Boy Worth Choosing (The Worthy Series Book 2) (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

~Stephen~

“Ms. St. James, how are you feeling?” Two doctors with purple scrubs and white lab coats saunter into the room, each with their own tablet in hand. I help Jessie sit up and take up her hand, making sure she knows I’m not going anywhere.

“I’ve felt a little better.” The dark haired female doctor gives her a compassionate smile and I think I like her.

“Jessie, you met Dr. Rice in the ER. I take it this is your fiancé?” the female doctor turns to me and holds out her hand. “I’m Dr. Graham, Jessie’s gynecologist.”

“Stephen Cahill,” I introduce myself and shake her hand as I feel the temperature in the room start to rise.

“You don’t have to stay for this if you don’t want to,” Jessie tells me quietly. The look on her face tells me that Dr. Graham’s being here means that she may not be comfortable with the news they have for her.

“I’m not going anywhere. I want to hear that you’re okay for myself.” I pull her hand to my lips and brush my lips across her knuckles, trying not to let the trembling I feel inside show. I turn back to the doctors who both give me their best sympathetic look.

“Okay, so Jessie, I called Dr. Graham just as soon as the ultrasound pictures were sent over. It appears that you have had an ovarian cyst rupture.” I hear the slight intake of breath from Jessie and begin to wonder if I’m in over my head here. “At this time, there isn’t anything I can do for you that Dr. Graham will do much better, so I’m going to leave you in her very capable hands. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

A bajillion questions launch in my head, starting with who gave this quack his license to practice medicine? He was just going to hand her off because he wasn’t the superior doctor? Why the hell is he even practicing medicine to begin with?

But Jessie just shakes her head and lets him walk out of the room. I pick my jaw up off the floor to start asking a bunch of questions, but by the time I decide on which one is best to ask first, Dr. Graham pulls up a chair and lights up her tablet.

“Okay, so as Dr. Rice said, you had a cyst rupture. By the look on your face, Mr. Cahill, I take it you don’t know what this means?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, well let’s start at the beginning. Roughly every month ovaries are responsible for using hormones to produce an egg for reproductive purposes.” She turns her tablet to show us a black and white picture of God only knows what. There is a fairly large black circle in the middle of the picture with three or four littler circles to the side of it.

“This is an ultrasound picture of a normal ovary. These smaller circles are follicles, where an egg is supposed to grow and eventually be released. Sometimes the egg doesn’t release or it does and the follicle reseals afterward, the follicle will build up fluid creating a cyst.” She taps her screen a couple of times and pulls up a different picture with at least ten black circles clustered together.

“This is a picture of Jessie’s right ovary. These circles are cysts. Her left side looks similar, although there are not as many. Jessie, you have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, or as it’s more commonly called, PCOS.”

I don’t think she realizes it, but the grip Jessie has on my hand has gotten significantly tighter since Dr. Graham started her explanation. I turn to her and see the terror in her eyes. I try to squeeze her hand back, but barely get any pressure into it. It’s enough to make her look at me though, and I take a deep breath, hoping she will do the same.

“So this cyst that burst, will that happen to all of those?” I ask, pointing at the cluster on the screen. I can’t imagine Jessie having to go through this ten more times. Dr. Graham smiles patiently at me and shakes her head. I feel myself let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes the body will expel the fluids slower, and she won’t even know it’s happening. Which has probably been the case all along. However I am concerned about a couple of the cysts in this picture.” She taps the screen and another picture pops up, this time with dotted lines and some text that vaguely resemble measurements.  “These two are alarmingly large, approximately 5 centimeters in diameter. If they do not start to shrink or they continue to grow, we will have to explore the options of having them removed.”

“So she needs surgery?”

“Potentially. I’d like to set up a few follow up appointments so that we can keep a close eye on them to make sure that we don’t have to go that route.”

Jessie stares quietly at the screen. I don’t know what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers, but I’m not sure I can just watch her sit there much longer.

“Jessie,” I say, successfully pulling her from her trance.

“What does this mean for our ability to get pregnant?” she asks, her voice slipping a notch.

“Well, I would rather run a couple of hormone level tests before I answer that question in its entirety. The short answer to that question is, it could be a challenge, but I’m not ruling anything out as of right now.”

The muscles in Jessie’s jaw twitch and I can see that she is struggling to find hope.

“Hey,” I turn to her and cup her cheek. “This is good news. We can get all the information now and game plan from there. If I understand this all correctly, you could have had this for a while now and not have known it. So we could have struggled with an unknown challenge for God only knows how long before we could combat it. But now we know. We will figure this out, and whatever it takes, we will do everything we can to make sure that we have the family you want. I promise.”

The tears start to slip from her eyes and I lean over and kiss them away from her. My heart is slowly cracking for her, but I won’t let her see it. I will stand strong and help her through this because at the end of the day, all I want for her is to be happy. No matter what it takes.

***

“Stephen, I’m so sorry.”

I nearly drop the three bottles of water and the mug of warm tea I’m carrying into her living room.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” I ask, carefully setting down everything on the coffee table. She pulls back her throw blanket and scoots to the middle of the couch so I can sit beside her. She pauses the episode of whatever drama show she’s into now and turns to face me, offering some of her popcorn.

“For scaring you. For putting you through all this. For making an already sensitive subject an issue again. For—“

“Stop. You didn’t intend to scare me. You aren’t putting me through anything. And yes, we do need to talk about children.” I pop a few pieces of popcorn in my mouth before continuing. “I know how much you want to have children, but Jessie, I’m not losing you to child birth. I don’t know all the ins and outs of this PCOS, but you better believe I’m going to learn everything I can about it, and anything else that comes up, and we will deal with all of it
together
.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme about this.”

“Am I really, though? I personally could go a long while before we build our family, but I understand what this means for you. So I’m willing to move up my timeframe to make you happy. But how are you supposed to be happy if you’re struggling to get pregnant or carry a baby full term? Or you’re not here to enjoy a baby? I want to make you the happiest woman alive, but not at the expense of your own life.”

I watch her as she mulls this over. I know that she’s trying to hide the tears when she looks down and won’t look back up.

“Listen, let’s just see what Dr. Graham has to say. Let’s get all the facts first before we start thinking up best and worst case scenarios. Okay?” I reach over and lift her chin when she won’t look at me. “We’ll figure it out…together.” I lean over and kiss her gently on the lips, wiping the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.

“I just don’t know what to do, Stephen. I want this so much but it’s completely out of my control. I just don’t know what to do,” she whispers. My heart cracks a little more as I realize I don’t really have any answers for her either.

“Neither do I, but I promise you, we
will
figure it out. And we’ll pray over it and we’ll do everything we safely can. I promise, I’m not giving up on you or our family. Not ever.”

I pull her under my arm and hold her close.

Oh God, please heal her. Please don’t break her heart because I don’t know if I can survive that.

***

As promised, I have learned far more about the menstrual cycle and how the female reproductive organs work than I care to know. But from the moment the doctor said that getting pregnant will become difficult, I have been all ears. I have read just about every article, website, and pamphlet I can get my hands on. I’ve even managed to sit through two visits in the doctor’s actual office where there are a plethora of posters in graphic detail of the female reproductive system. Did I mention I’ve even given a sperm sample? Talk about awkward.

And after three weeks the consensus is in:

“I’m sorry to say that the cysts are still growing. Fortunately the two on the right side are the only two that are serious enough that we need to do something about as of right now. So we will need to schedule your surgery. I understand the wedding is coming up?” Dr. Graham looks up from the quickly growing file that is Jessie’s medical records.

“End of next month,” I reply, watching Jessie try to calm her breathing. So far she’s nodding and not crying, so I think that’s progress.

“Okay. So you will need to account for at least one to possibly two weeks of recovery. And not to intentionally add any stress to your wedding planning, but the sooner we can have the surgery, the better. You’re more likely to be able to enjoy the wedding and honeymoon if we can get it done and have you recovered from it beforehand.”

Jessie takes another deep breath and looks up at me with renewed determination. I nod back at her, letting her know I’m all in.

“Okay, let me get my business partner slash maid of honor slash wedding planner on the phone and get this scheduled.” 

“Okay. Before we schedule, I want to make sure all the potential consequences of this surgery have been discussed.” Dr. Graham hands each of us a hand out that outlines the procedure thoroughly. “On the back side of this handout, is a list of all possible outcomes. Everything from the successful removal of the cysts without any outstanding complications to worst case scenario of complete infertility.” She pauses a second to let that sink in and I notice Jessie tense up.

I reach over and place my hand on Jessie’s thigh.

“We’ve got this. We can take it one step at a time and the next step is this surgery. We have to make sure that you’re healthy first before we can focus on anything else. So we’ve got this.” She nods again and I send up yet another prayer.

I’m begging you Lord, please don’t break her heart.

Chapter Nineteen

~Jessie~

“I have some good news and some bad news.”

This isn’t exactly what you want to hear from your doctor after she’s cut you open and removed a couple of cysts from your ovaries. Especially when your ability to have children is on the line.

A gentle squeeze from Stephen reminds me that he’s here. But I’m not sure if I can take him telling me that “we’ll” get through this one more time. He isn’t the one who this is happening to. He isn’t the one who wants children the most. He only wants them because they will make me happy. He isn’t the one getting cut open to have parts of his reproductive system removed. No, I’m the one who is laying in a hospital bed. His constant reminding that everything is going to be okay is not helping as much as he would like it to.

“The good news is that the removal of the cysts was a complete success. At this time there doesn’t appear to be anything to be further concerned about. Also, there shouldn’t be any problem with you getting to go home here in a few hours. However, the pre-op ultrasound showed a few more cysts that we need to keep a close eye on.” She gives me a sympathetic look before adding, “On the left side this time.”

“So another surgery then?” Stephen’s voice starts to rise and I feel anger growing in his grip.

“For now, no. There are two more that are measuring about three centimeters, so as of right now, it’s completely possible they will dissipate all on their own.  But considering your surgery today, and the rupture last month, I feel we should at least keep a close eye on them for now.”

The reality of adding more doctor’s appointments to the already full schedule of wedding preparation and still running a business consumes my thoughts. I can’t focus on what this means long term for us or what this could possibly mean for my ability to conceive a child, so instead I mentally focus on how I’m going to fit in ultrasounds and follow up appointments to meetings with the caterer, the baker, the tent rental company, the alterations seamstress and just about everyone else that wants this bride’s attention. Not to mention the photo sessions I’ve already booked between now and the first of October.

“Okay, I’ll call your office to schedule our next ultrasound once I can talk to my business partner and maid of honor. I’ll need to juggle some wedding appointments and move a client session or two, but we’ll make it work.”

“Whoa! Hold on. You aren’t possibly still doing sessions and going to all those wedding appointments yourself are you?” Stephen looks at me like I’ve grown three extra heads.

“I still have a business to run and this wedding isn’t going to pay for itself.” I get a look that tells me he’s not at all happy with this realization, but honestly, what did he expect me to do? Just up and quit my own studio because my ovaries decided to go rogue??

“We’ll talk about this later.” Oh, he most definitely isn’t happy. Well then, he’s really going to freak out when he finds out Daphne and I have decided to move forward with the pursuit of a second studio.

Yeah, that was decided at this morning’s Monday meeting. Our clientele base has grown exponentially since we’ve cleared up the whole Caleb debacle and even though we’ve taken on another intern, we’re still booked through the first of the year. The foundation for finding a second location and letting Isaiah and Shelby run it is laying itself perfectly so we couldn’t not move on the opportunity.  I was actually going to surprise Stephen with the news during our private post-op dinner at home tonight, but it appears he’s not quite in the mood to be surprised right now.

“Okay. So I also have one last bit of news,” Dr. Graham hesitates a moment, making my blood pressure jump and the machine that is monitoring it to beep a little faster. Stephen jerks his head toward me to see what is wrong and I just smile nervously at him. He gives me the smile he gives before he tells me that everything is going to be okay and I shake my head at him. I can’t hear him say it again.

“Based on a very primitive examination, it appears that you have roughly five reproductive years left. I say the exam is primitive only because its accuracy cannot be one hundred percent verified. It honestly could go shorter or longer, but based upon our knowledge up to this point, we’re fairly confident you have about five years.”

Stephen asks how my “reproductive years” can be calculated, but I don’t hear the answer. I’ve already promised Stephen that we would wait a year before we would start trying. That means that we only have four years left to build a family.

We, well mostly I, had a plan. We would space them out, three, maybe four years in between each child. But with this new complication, we could have one, maybe two children.

I feel my dreams of a big country home full of children start to implode. Football games, dance recitals, band concerts, and parades all slip out of my dreams as I see everything I wanted in life start to fade away. I can’t see anything more than a two bedroom apartment in the city, just the two of us. My father will never get to hold a grandbaby in his arms, Stephen will never get to help with science fair projects and I will never get handprint cards every holiday.

“We’ll start right away.” Stephen’s voice breaks through the dreary fog that my mind is quickly becoming. “Well, I mean, she will start the necessary processes right away so that once we are married, she’ll be prepped and ready to conceive. We can do that right?”

“I’m sorry. What are you saying?” I try to pick back up with the conversation he’s having with Dr. Graham, but that fog doesn’t want to clear out of my head.

“You will start all necessary testing and whatever introductory hormone therapy you can now. Once we are married, we will start trying for a baby.” Stephen gives me a look of fierce determination. I replay his words in my head and still don’t think I’m understanding him correctly.

“Huh?” My head is starting to spin. “Are you saying you don’t want to wait a year now?”

“Listen. I have spent a lifetime with you as my best friend. And I will finish this lifetime with you as my wife. But we only have a small window to build the family we want. I’m not going to narrow that window even smaller because I’m selfish and I want you all to myself. We’ll start taking all the necessary steps now and let whatever happens happen.”

I feel warm tears slip down my cheeks and I didn’t even realize I was on the verge of crying. Since the moment the doctor told me that I have villainous ovaries, the only thing I can think of is the minimized possibilities of having one baby, let alone any more. But right now, I’m gently reminded of the man who has had my back for the last twenty years. The man who, regardless of whatever he’s going through, is still willing to sacrifice for me. The man who has completely stolen my heart and that I love more than anything else in this world.

He leans in, wipes my tears away and kisses my forehead. The soft feel of his lips on my forehead sends a rippling through my body, and there isn’t anything more that I want right now than to curl up in his arms and not leave.

“I’ll go send the prescription to your pharmacy and be back with both your medication and post-op instructions.” Dr. Graham gets up and exits, leaving me dumbfounded at what has transpired in the last five minutes.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask Stephen as he stands up and motions for me to scoot over. I do and he sits beside me and pulls me as close to him as I can get without tangling us both up in tube and cords.

“Absolutely. One hundred percent,” he says before kissing the top of my head.

“What if we get pregnant right away?”

“Then we’ll need to find a crib and some other place to store all your photography equipment.” His chest shakes from a held in chuckle. “Or we can buy a house. A big one, in the country.” I can practically feel the smile spread across his face as he holds me tighter.

“What if we don’t get pregnant at all?” The question comes out more frightened than I intended to give away. He pulls back and levels his eyes to mine.

“Then we figure out another way to build our family. But I promise you that we will have a family. As many as you want. We might need to win the lottery in order to feed them all, but we won’t stop until you’re happy.” He winks at me and I know that he’s willing to say anything to make me happy. I should probably get this all in writing while I have the chance, but instead I wrap my arms around him and pull him as close to me as I can get him.

***

“Okay, so I brought both
Hunger Games
movies, all of the seasons I could find of
Gilmore Girls
because I thought
Grey’s Anatomy
probably isn’t the best thing to be watching right now, and a half gallon of cookies and cream ice cream for tomorrow. But for right now, I have five listings I want to show you,” Daphne says as she hops onto the couch beside me.

I cringe, hoping Stephen didn’t just hear that. Unfortunately, he did.

“Listings? For what?” he asks, as he turns off the kitchen light and brings me a mug of warm tea.

“You didn’t tell him?!” Daphne’s eyes nearly explode out of her head. “Why haven’t you told him yet?!”

For the same reason I haven’t told her about the other bombs the doctor dropped on me.

“I haven’t had the chance yet,” I fib. The raised eyebrows on Stephen’s face tells me he’s not buying the lie.

He agreed to keep Daphne in the dark about the start of progesterone cream and our limited number of reproductive years. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to keep it from her though; the girl can tell what I’m feeling by the shoes I wear for crying out loud. I’m not sure she has any type of shoe classified as “grouchy due to hormone treatment” though so I might be okay.

“We voted this morning. We’re searching for a location for a second studio!” Daphne squeals. Stephen’s eyes bore into mine and I suddenly want to dissolve into the couch.

“That’s great,” he says unenthusiastically.

“It is! Isaiah and Shelby have agreed to relocate so they can run it. But we have to figure out where we want to go and then we will have to hire a couple photographers for each site.  Depending on where we set up, we might even be able to take on another intern too!”

Each word Daphne speaks is like another shovel full of dirt slowly being removed to make my grave.

“I see. So when are you guys hoping to find a new place?” Stephen asks slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

“If we can find a place quickly, we hope to have the new site open by the first of the year.” I seriously want to gag Daphne at this point.

“Hmm,” is all that Stephen manages as he finally breaks eye contact with me.

Daphne missed the stare down between Stephen and I and plops down beside me on the couch with a few printouts.

“Daphne, I don’t think this is really a good time to do this. I’m feeling really tired. We’ve had a long day and would really just like to relax a bit before Stephen has to go home. Can we look at these tomorrow?”

She looks a little down-hearted at my suggestion, but after checking her watch, she brightens right up.

“Actually I need to go anyway. You guys okay to hang by yourselves tonight?” She jumps right up and starts collecting her stuff, a little too hurriedly.

“Yes…Got a hot date there, Speedy?” I ask. She’s being awfully suspicious.

“Kinda.” She giggles. “Danica’s flight should be landing soon. She decided last minute to bring Georgia with her.”

I had totally forgotten Daphne’s younger sister was coming to town. Danica’s the only family that Daphne ever really talks to. Besides her mother. But I’m not sure a ten minute conversation once a month really constitutes as “talking” to her mother.

“Please give both her and Georgia a hug from me,” I tell her as she rushes out the door.

The air in the room gets sucked out as the door shuts.

“So…you want to tell me about this new addition now that you have the chance?”

I feel the laser beams shooting from his eyes as I stare at my mug.

“If you want to wait the year, I’ll understand.” Fear that he does want to wait makes my voice barely above a whisper.

“Jessie.” When I don’t look up at him, he reaches over and gently pulls my chin to face him. “Oh, baby. I don’t want to wait. But need I remind you that adding this extra stress could be very counterproductive toward getting pregnant?”

He’s right.

“Please don’t ask me to choose between having children and building my business. I know what I would choose, but I can’t ask Daphne and the team to wait for me to get back on board.”

“I’m not asking for you to choose. I’m asking you to make sure this is what you want.”

“It is, if it’s what you want too. I agreed to wait; to give us some time to be us and now you’re willing to give that up for me and what I want. I know how much of a sacrifice this is to you.” He doesn’t say anything, just nods at me, so I adjust so that I’m facing him.

“Listen, we’ve talked about children and we’ve talked about our long term goals and dreams. But what we haven’t talked about is a backup plan. I know we have options, and I’m willing to make whatever concessions I need to, to make sure that you’re as happy as you make me.”

I cup both hands around his face and pull him to me to kiss him. He gently places his hands on my hips and carefully pulls me into his lap. His kiss is warm and hungry and I feel his pain through all this. He’s hurting almost as much as I am, but I know his pain is seeing me go through the scariest thing I could possibly go through.  The grip of his hands and arms tightens the longer we embrace.