Tomorrow Will Be Too Late (24 page)

‘I’ve been trying to reach you all evening,
’
he
had
said as she listened, waiting for yet another piece of bad news
to
hit her. What came next floored her totally, every single nerve
-
ending frozen into a state of
total
disbelief.

‘
Well
, I got some really good news, my dear.’ He did sound embarrassed, Kate realized, apprehension growing. Why on earth would he?

‘I received the third report on the sample we sent out
.
Well
, I am happy to tell you that my assistant caused a small misunderstanding.’ He paused
,
waiting for her to ask the obvious question, but she
had
remained silent. Something
had
started to build in her brain, some premonition.
She didn’t dare to let it grow, her confusion complete.

After that
,
everything blurred into one long stream of explanations she couldn’t take in
,
as hard as she tried
.
She listened, motionless and cool, as her thoughts raced in circles akin
to
a swarm of angry bees.

She wasn’t really dying, was her first
,
most primal thought, a deep sense of relief penetrating her insides and thawing the icy ring that
had
kept her prisoner since her visit yesterday. She felt Justin move behind her, her sensitive skin attuned to him as if he were her personal sun with gravity pulling her in with each breath she took. And then the other, equally important thought hit home, her momentary sense of peace shattered into
a
million pieces.

Justin… six short letters, carrying the weight of the universe.

‘Miss, we’re here
.
’
The
cab driver’s voice, polite with just a tinge of impatience, made her blink and glance out the window, her heart heavy with trepidation
. Was it really only
twenty-four
hours ago she
had
arrived at the same doctor’s office, anxious and ready to fight the ugly disease hidden deep inside her? It seemed like ages ago, she thought as she paid, leaving a generous tip to the pleasantly surprised driver. Judging by her aloof manners, he must have thought her downright rude, she thought as she saw him smile widely and wave a good
-
bye
.

She stood on the sidewalk for another minute or two, unable to force her feet to keep going. She must have looked a mess, since one or two
passer
s
by
st
ared at her, one of them slowing down with a clear intention to start a conversation. Anything but this, she thought desperately, forcing herself to walk briskly to the door and open it with one decisive push.

It was a large medical building, shared by numerous offices and labs, with the main lobby and reception desk up
front.
A
decent amount of people
were
there already, Monday morning one of the busiest days. She walked past the ground
-
floor offices, half
-
open doors
offering
her a glimpse of patients filling most of the available chairs. Past the X-ray office and the lab were the elevators, waiting to take her up to see
Dr
.
Merkle.

The way up to her doctor’s office felt absolutely unreal, and she had to resist the urge to pinch her arm painfully to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Things like that didn’t happen, she thought unhappily as she watched the light in the elevator reach the third floor.
Of
course
,
one read about medical mistakes and wrong
diagnoses
, nothing in the world totally perfect and foolproof. But having it happen to her was an entirely different thing, the ripple effect it caused not something she could contemplate now. Not before she left here, she thought bitterly, her
self-composure
fragile and on the verge of collapsing. Otherwise
,
she might end up throwing a huge tantrum, embarrassing both the doctor and herself. She needed to give him the benefit of
the
doubt before she really went at it, however difficult it seemed.

After all
,
she could hardly yell at him that it was his fault she threw herself at the only man she really cared about, offering him sex and asking for emotional distance.

Her steps faltered just as she was about to open the familiar door, her body frozen in horrified realization. She cared for Justin. Deeply and irrevocably. Of course she did. All that lofty talk about having fun
was a
total lie
.
If she didn’t care about him, nothing in the world would
have made
her do
the
things she
had done
last night, her cheeks coloring at the sheer memory. She might have thought she was dying, but it wouldn’t
have
be
en
enough to push her over the edge if she
had
felt nothing at all.

She opened the door impulsively, eager to escape this unexpected soul
-
searching and the conclusion it would bring.

‘The doctor is already waiting for you
.
’ Sandra, the receptionist
,
gave her a
friendly
smile
as she ushered
Kate
to one of the three small examining rooms.
Kate
caught one or two unfriendly glances from the
waiting
patients, the preferred treatment obviously not going down well. She could hardly explain to them what was going on, she decided, smiling apologetically and following the receptionist to the door.

Sandra
put the folder with her file into the little basket on the wall, the thin, dark blue covers holding all the info about her case. She was tempted to take it down and have a peek,
impatience eating her up. She managed to stop herself from doing that and remained seated in one of the two plastic chairs, her eyes going over the familiar charts and posters covering the walls.

No special treatment today, she thought. No armchair in the private office, just the usual room. Well, if getting good news meant less comfort, she
’
d take it
any day
.

She didn’t have to wait long. The door to the neighboring room opened suddenly, the voices of
Dr
. Merkle and another patient spilling over. A
middle-aged
man with
a
visible limp appeared, followed by the doctor, his hand reassuringly patting
the man’s
shoulder.

‘By tomorrow night, the swelling should go down completely
,
but for now
,
remember, no physical exercise whatsoever.’ He softened the order with a smile, accompanying the man to the reception area.

She saw the doctor turn around and walk to her room
,
the open door offering her a good look at his face. The smile was wiped away instantly, awkwardness replacing it.

‘Well, Kate, I have to say I am at
a
loss here
.
’
He
wasn’t wasting any time
,
either. But then, being a doctor with
a
waiting room filling to the brim, he couldn’t afford anything else.

‘I know you must be very confused and apprehensive,’ he continued, glancing at her and attempting a weak smile. ‘
This has
never happened to me before, not in the thirty years I
’ve
practice
d
medicine. Still, I can only say I
’
m glad it turned out to be a mistake. I hope you see it this way
,
as well.’

He waited for her to say something reassuring.
After all
,
shouldn’t she be jumping to the ceiling with relief? And most probably she would
have,
if she
hadn’t made
such an awful mess of things in such record time.

‘How could this happen?’
s
he asked instead, her eyes noticing the lines of worry appearing around his mouth.

‘As I explained to you yesterday, we sent
out
two samples to two independent labs. It’s standard procedure. It allows us to compare notes and also saves time. It’s
un
usual to have two different labs have the exact same result and be wrong. It was my idea
,
initially, a few years ago. Instead of first sending it to one lab and then
,
in case of doubts
,
get a second opinion, both samples could be surveyed independently at the same time. In some cases
,
even two weeks of saved time can make a difference.’

‘
Sounds
like a great idea
.
’
She
tried to be gracious, his visible discomfort making her uneasy. ‘
So
,
it was a mix
-
up, then?’

He nodded, his lips tightening in a line of disapproval. ‘
We
received two reports just two days ago, both of them conclusive. I called you instantly, remember? Last night, the third result arrived, totally unexpected. Until then
,
we
hadn’t
realized both of the first ones were from the same lab, basically repeating themselves. Suddenly we had two different versions, the conclusion
s
very
different
.
’

He paced the room, too restless to sit down. She watched him, tall and lanky in his white coat and rubber
-
soled shoes. So
,
that’s what an angel of mercy looked like, she had to think, the reality of it all starting to sink in.

‘I called my
colleague
, the one I was hoping to take over your case,
Kate
.’ He was speaking again, his hurried words making her think of a waterfall. ‘I basically dragged him down here, even though it was a weekend. My patients
’
well
-
being is paramount to me, be it physical or mental.’

He didn’t really need to beat himself up so much, she wanted to say, feeling almost sorry for making him so uncomfortable. Was he worried she would
sue
for causing her emotional trauma? She
vaguely
remember
ed
a case where a woman was misdiagnosed and ended up demanding a hefty compensation
;
the horror of the few weeks when she thought she’d die
had
translated into a rather large amount of money.

‘He compared the results
and ordered some very
speedy extra tests himself,’ Dr. Merkle continued, his eyes resting on her face with concern. ‘He was puzzled by the diagnosis, since you had no other symptoms.
The biopsy he ordered was to determine if all the abnormal cells were coming from a single clone
—
it’s called the clonality test.’

She had no idea what he was talking about. She
had
research
ed
her disease on the internet, of course. She had to know more about it, even though it felt absolutely surreal to even contemplate having it somewhere deep inside her. The more she read
,
the less it seemed real and possible, she recalled. But she trusted her doctor, of course. He did say the tests were absolutely conclusive and
one
hundred percent positive.

‘Simply put, if positive
,
the test is strongly suggestiv
e of cancer, such as lymphoma.’ He
looked at her, his smile uneasy. ‘Yours was negative. Plus, my
colleague
has a few patients with this type of cancer
,
and he knows what to expect and what to look for. He challenged the other tests from the lab we contacted first. It turned out, they weren’t
one
hundred percent sure
,
either. In the initial report
,
it just said the results suggested a possibility of cancer. Someone too eager had wrongly changed it to a firm diagnosis and wrote it down in the final report.’