Chapter XVII: The Doctor Will See You Now

I woke up the next morning in the cold, basement bedroom of Ben’s apartment. He kissed me on the forehead before leaving for work.

As he closed the door gently behind him, I turned over onto my back, knowing all too well that I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. There was too much on my mind.

I lifted the phone and reread Savannah’s message.

I read it over and over again.

I finally had to stop myself and throw the phone at the end of the bed; killing the anxiety-inducing cycle. I got up and hopped into the shower to get ready for the day I had already been dreading.

***

I stood in the shower, lathering my hair; turning up the heat to let scalding hot water pour over me like a leper attempting to disinfect her contaminated body. I could feel the back of my neck get red where the pounding of water kept hitting me. Would I ever be clean? Rid of this disease that seemed to perpetually pump through my veins; the feeling of dread always lurking over my shoulder? Would the demonic presence keeping one hand eerily on my shoulder ever fade away? Perhaps the writing really would heal me. Perhaps it would build up my immunity against this sickening infection. I could only surmise what prescription was needed in order to cure myself. Knowledge and the truth, I thought, the only antidote.

***

I got out of the shower and haphazardly got myself dressed and ready. I would soon be headed to my most feared annual appointment.

The OBGYN.

I never thought there could be a fate worse than being poked and prodded as intimately as a woman is in a doctor’s office. But now, I knew I’d have to face the regular scrutiny of my age alongside a newfound pity; the pity after explaining to my doctor that my fiancé was no longer in the picture. I knew what face she would make. I knew she’d have me get tested for every STD under the sun like she demanded every year. Hell, I thought, she’ll probably have me test for leprosy, too while we’re at it.

Had he not poisoned me with enough?

The fear set in as I sat back on Ben’s bed to put on my shoes. I looked back at my phone, sighing from the mantra I kept telling myself.

The truth is power.

The truth is the cure.

I reached to the end of the bed for my phone and instead of calling my Uber, I sent Savannah a message:

“Hi Savannah,

Sorry for the delay. I saw this last night as I was getting in bed and had to process a little bit. Can I please say how much I appreciate your message? It is truly so validating because I have suspected for some time now that this may have been a pattern with others before me. I’m so happy to know and see that you have flourished since dating such a monster; you have a beautiful family. I’d love to hear more about your experience if you are willing to share it with me. I certainly don’t want to interfere or intrude on your life and family, so if that is too much for you, I wholeheartedly understand.

And, for what it’s worth, you are certainly not nosey. I put this out there for the world to see so we all can be better prepared against sociopathic individuals and learn from my mistakes…”

I looked it over before pressing send. I meant every word. I wanted to know more of the truth. I wanted to piece together the holes in the story, the holes in my former life; channeling the inner journalist I had once sought out to be.

She responded not three minutes later.

***

Savannah and I chatted back and forth for the next hour. The conversation flowed easily and organically, as if we had been friends for years. We talked about anything and everything; our dating relationship with the Monster, his manipulations, his sexual orientation, and what in life could have made him so evil. We discussed how we both found amazing men after him, and how they had taught us so much about real, unconditional love.

She mentioned how when she got engaged to her now husband, the Monster resurfaced and contacted her, or tried to. She mentioned how he did it a few times during her marriage, too; an insidious lurker looking for an opportunity to ruin a relationship; a sad, yet predictable, vie for attention.

We exchanged screenshots of messages we had with the Monster. He had reached out to her yet again for pity that our engagement fell through. I laughed seeing the messages of him saying how I cheated and how hard a time he was having on our former wedding date; us both agreeing that someone as disturbed as he is must believe his own lies.

“Karma’s a bitch,” he wrote.

A little ironic now, isn’t it, Monster?

***

“Even when he made it seem like you <cheated>, I knew it wasn’t,” Savannah said.

It felt good to be believed.

I changed the subject as I hopped into the Uber to make my way to the doctor downtown.

“This may be too much info, but the stuff that really still hurts is something I think you can relate to as a mom,” I wrote. “I’m headed to my first OBGYN appointment since all this shit. And not only will it be embarrassing to talk about, but I’m about to be 33 and I have to start seriously thinking about fertility and freezing eggs.”

I choked up in the car as I wrote the next part, wiping away the lone tear I allowed to stream down my face as I gasped for more air.

“I could have afforded it, if he just paid us back. He took away so much.”

Savannah comforted me and spoke about her pregnancy; assuring me that everything would work out in the end. I exited out of the Uber and nervously swallowed as I walked into Northwestern facility in Streeterville.

***

As I sat in the waiting room, I texted Ben.

“I’m anxious.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I promise", he replied with a smiling emoji for added comfort.

Just as I took my last gulp of water, the nurse called my name.

“Lindsay, we’re ready for you.”

***

I sat there, cold and naked under the sterile paper robe, dreading the conversation that was about to take place. The doctor came in. She was a young, no-bullshit women in her early 40s. She nodded at me and said my name; my only greeting. I tried reiterating to myself that the best doctors have the worst bedside manner.

“So, what’s new?” she asked uninterested.

I looked at her, knowing all too well that I wouldn’t be able to keep it together for long. So, I reverted back to the three-sentence explanation that I had rehearsed and performed so many times.

“My fiancé cheated on me. She got pregnant. We broke up.”

My doctor looked at me confused. I wasn’t sure if she had finally encountered a moment of empathy or if she was experiencing another thought.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally said quietly. She motioned for me to assume the position and spoke to me about the ordeal through the physical exam. I turned my head to the side and flinched as she worked; not sure if from the discomfort or the emotional pain resurfacing from answering her direct questions.

After she finished up, she said I needed to go for a blood draw to screen out any possible STDs from the Monster’s transgressions. Before she closed my file, she spoke again.

“Because your exam last year came back abnormal, we will be taking a closer look at the samples. You may need to come back for a colposcopy or biopsy.

My jaw visibly dropped.

“What do you mean?” I said. This was the first I had heard of an abnormal pap. “Nobody told me anything last year?” I said as a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She said nonchalantly looking down at the file.

The panic began to set in. “What does abnormal mean, exactly?”

She looked up at me; staring blankly.

“Precancerous cells.”

***

I exited the doctor’s office and ran to the first empty corridor I could find; hiding behind a wall so I could be alone. My shortness of breath was getting worse and I felt like my airways were being constricted with fear. My past and future flashed before my eyes. I thought about how much Ben wanted children. I thought about how much I wanted children. What did this mean for my future family, my future health, my life?

Hands shaking, I took out my phone and called Ben. It rang only once before he answered. His sweet and upbeat hello was quickly quashed by acknowledgement of the sound of quiet sobs on the other end of the line.

“Is everything okay?” Ben asked.

More tears streamed down my face and I put my other hand up hide my eyes.

“I don’t know.”

***