LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      “Um,” she stuttered, her mind still too full of the past to focus on the doctor’s questions. “This morning…”

      “What’s the last thing you remember?” Eric prompted. He soothed the inside of her palm with his thumb, something he’d done when they were teenagers.

      “I…” Pulling her hand away was nearly impossible, but she managed it. She focused on the doctor. “I was visiting my grandfather… Then I rode the elevator down to the parking deck.”

      “And after that?” the doctor asked.

      “Nothing…I…I don’t know what happened next.” Concentrating made the throbbing in her head worse. “I was driving out of the deck, and… Someone said something about an accident?”

      “At the light turning onto Crabapple.” Eric’s expression darkened. “You ran it and pulled in front of a pickup truck.”

      “I…” She rubbed her temple. “I remember a red truck… But that’s not right… There was a van, or a bigger truck behind me…” Why couldn’t she remember? “Was anyone hurt?”

      The doctor jotted notes onto a chart. “I hear your car and the truck that hit you are both a mess, but the other driver was unharmed, and you seem to have suffered only a mild concussion—”

      “What do you mean a bigger truck?” Eric asked over the doctor. When she only stared, her thoughts still a jumble of mixed images, he took her hand again. “You said there was a van or a bigger truck involved in the accident.”

      “I don’t know… I don’t remember…”

      “Short-term memory loss is very common with a concussed brain,” the doctor offered.

      “It’s just that I know there’s something more.” She hated the way she was clinging to Eric’s hand, but her fingers had a mind of their own and had no interest in letting go. “I wouldn’t have run that light. I know how busy Crabapple is this time of day. And there was—”

      She coughed, her breath catching on a light-headed feeling she knew all too well.

      “There was a van behind me, or a dark truck—” Another series of coughs worked to clear her lungs as her mind filled with the image of a large vehicle barreling up behind her rental car. “I think someone hit me from behind when I stopped at the light.”

      “This other vehicle—” Both of Eric’s hands held hers now. His grip was firm. “What exactly did it look like?”

      She tried to answer, if only to ease the awful expression on Eric’s face. But the tightness in her chest had other ideas. Another coughing fit stripped her breath away.

      “Excuse me, Sheriff.” The doctor stepped between them to listen to her chest through his stethoscope. Eric dropped her hands and moved away.

      “Tell me, Ms. Wilmington,” the doctor said. “Have you been fighting off a flu bug or some other kind of infection?”

      “No. Why?” Having a good idea why, she glanced at Eric. His scowl deepened as the doctor started probing the lymph nodes behind her ears.

      “Because you’re running a midgrade fever, and your pulse and blood pressure are unusually low,” the doctor replied. “Your lungs are clear, but that cough’s concerning me. Your body’s under some kind of stress that may or may not be connected with the accident.”

      She raised a hand to the ache at her temple, fingering the bandage she found there. The nightmare she’d stumbled into last night kept getting worse and worse. “Can I have a word with you alone, Doctor?”

      Dr. Burns hesitated for only a second before turning to face a looming Eric.

      “Will you excuse us, Sheriff?” He nodded toward the partially closed curtain that separated Carrinne’s alcove from the rest of the ER floor.

      “I need more information about the accident,” Eric countered. “If another car was involved—”

      “I understand, Sheriff. But that can wait.”

      “Not if—”

      “The longer we stand here—” the doctor’s hands found the pockets of his lab coat “—the longer it’ll be before we both find the answers we need.”

      “Eric, please,” she added. No way could he be here for the conversation she knew was coming.

      Eric pinned the doctor with an unblinking, bad-boy stare. To Dr. Burns’s credit, he didn’t budge. With a worried look at Carrinne, Eric turned and left.

      Closing the curtain, Dr. Burns returned to the bed. “Better?”

      “Yes, thank you.” She continued to toy with the edge of the bandage, the list of disasters playing havoc with her plans growing by second. “I’m only visiting Oakwood. No one but my grandfather knows about my condition, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

      “It’s important that I know what we’re dealing with, if I’m going to help you.”

      Glancing at the curtain, she sighed. “I was diagnosed with primary sclerosing cholangitis about six months ago. That may be what’s causing some of the symptoms you mentioned.”

      “I see.” After a slight pause and a professional nod, he scribbled even more notes onto the chart. “Have you had a liver biopsy?”

      “A few months ago. I’m in the very early stages, so my symptoms have been mild so far. The doctors wouldn’t have diagnosed it this early if it weren’t for the battery of blood tests they ran at my yearly physical. I’d felt run-down for a few months. At first, they thought it was just stress.”

      “Okay. We’ll do some additional lab work to test your enzyme levels. I’ll need your doctor’s name and number so we can compare them to his baseline.” Dr. Burns looked up from the chart. “Have there been any recurring symptoms?”

      “The fever you mentioned, and I tire more easily than I used to. The cough only happens every now and then, when I can’t catch my breath.”

      “Any weight loss?”

      “A little, but I’m working with a nutritionist to design a better diet. I’ve skipped several meals lately, so I’m not exactly where I should be.”

      “You must be aware that with your condition, your system absorbs fat less efficiently. Your abnormally low blood pressure and heart rate are symptoms that your body’s not getting the energy it needs. Even though you’re in the early stages of the disease, your stamina will deteriorate without regular meals and rest. The fever’s probably a sign of infection, and the more run-down your body is, the less able it will be to fight off illness.”

      “I understand. It’s just been a difficult few days.”

      “I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics for the infection.” More notes on the chart. “Are you taking vitamins?”

      “Yes. Every morning.”

      “Good. Leave the nurse a list. Maybe there’s something more we can suggest to help.” He set the chart aside. Crossing his arms across his chest, he gave her the kind of look doctors always give you when they’re about to say something they know you don’t want to hear. “I’m recommending several days of bed rest until we have the infection cleared up.”

      “Here?”

      “No. We’ll release you as soon as you’re cleared for the concussion. But I want you doing as little as possible once you’re home. You need to rebuild your strength before things go from bad to worse.”

      “But I’m only in town for a few days, and there’s something critical I need to be doing.”

      “Then I’d suggest you find someone who can help you with whatever it is. Keep going at the pace you are, and you’ll wind up right back here.”

Скачать книгу