Although I don’t think the bruise is that bad—it’s actually almost gone—I lie down and lift the bottom of my shirt. Dr. Becker rolls down the waistband of my leggings until he exposes the slightly sore area. He pokes at it a couple of times before fixing the waistband.
“Nothing to be concerned about.”
He moves to the center of my stomach and presses down a couple more times. He has me sit up and he listens to my heart and lungs.
“Has anything else occurred? Anything new?” He looks from me to Lincoln, and we both shake our heads.
Using a small penlight, he checks my pupils. After, he holds up a finger and asks me to follow it with my eyes without moving my head. He frowns again.
“There’s slight nystagmus,” he comments.
“Nystagmus?” Lincoln asks. “What is that?”
I answer for Dr. Becker. “Involuntary movement of the eye, sometimes known as dancing eyes.”
“Come look.” Lincoln goes to stand beside Dr. Becker. He has me follow his finger again. “See how the eyes rapidly flicker back and forth?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. So, what does that mean?” I ask.
“Could be nothing. Could be something important. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
“Could it be something neurological?”
With my background in veterinary science, I’ve got some medical knowledge. The more I think about my symptoms, the more it sounds like something to do with my nerves.
“Hmm…. Could be.”
“What’s our next move, Doc?” Lincoln asks.
“An MRI for starters. From there, we’ll see what we need to do next. I’ll put the order in now and should have an appointment for you for tomorrow. The radiologist is a good friend, so I’ll ask him to rush the results.” He pockets the penlight and retakes his seat on the stool. “In the meantime, I want you to keep a log of your symptoms. What they are, when they happen, and what you’re doing when it does.”
“Okay.”
After he types something on his laptop, he gets up from his seat. I slide down from the bed, and Lincoln slips his palm into mine, lacing our fingers together.
Dr. Becker walks over and grips my upper arm. “We’ll find out what’s going on with you. It just may take a few different tests and a bit of time.”
I nod, disappointment settling in my stomach. While I’m glad nothing serious was found in my blood work, I’m left with even more questions. One of the hardest things to go through is to know something’s wrong with your body, but not know what it is.
“I’ll get this referral sent over. You should get a call from Lena later today with your MRI appointment. I want you back in here Monday morning.”
“How concerned should we be?” Lincoln asks.
“I wouldn’t stress just yet. There’s no telling what this could be. Until we dig deeper and know more, I wouldn’t concern yourself too much.”
Lincoln and I thank Dr. Becker, and after I make an appointment for nine on Monday morning, we leave. My mind goes a mile a minute as we make the short drive home. The next few days are going to be hard to get through. The thought’s already crossed my mind to Google my symptoms and do research myself, but I know it’ll only make my worry worse. There are thousands of ailments that could relate to my symptoms, so there’s no way to know for sure.
I force my thoughts away and think of more lighthearted things.
“I was thinking Gemma and I could join you and Gray camping this year,” I remark as we walk through the door leading from the garage into the house.
“Really?” Lincoln stops and tosses his keys on the kitchen counter before turning to face me with amused eyes. “You mean you’re going to brave the wild for three whole days?”
I scoff. “I can totally handle it.”
He cocks a brow, not convinced. “You sure about that?”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he stalks toward me, chomping his teeth. I laugh and slip my tongue back between my lips. He wraps his arms around me, pinning me against the counter.
“You have such little faith in me,” I say playfully.
“You do remember the first and only time you went camping with us, right?”
“Hey! Anyone would freak out if a snake slithered up to them while they were peeing.”
His grin is cocky. “I didn’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, but your butt wasn’t inches away from the ground.”
“Ahh… yeah.” He chuckles. “Men are so lucky, aren’t we?”
“Yes.” I slap his chest. “You jerk.”
His lips rumble against mine when he kisses me. “You really want to come with us?”
“Yeah, I do. And I think Gemma will enjoy it too. When you guys go, I always fill the weekend with girly stuff for us to do, so it’s never bothered her that she wasn’t included, but I think she’ll have a blast.”
“Okay. But I’m not hooking your worms,” he warns cheekily.
“Whatever.” I pat his chest and then push him back. As I walk away, I throw him a grin over my shoulder. “I’ll have Gray do it for me.”
I plop down on the couch and pull up Mom’s number on my phone. She answers on the sixth ring.
“Sorry,” she greets breathlessly. “I left my phone upstairs while I was doing the laundry.”
“Has Dad put in the laundry shoot yet?”
“He’s actually working on it now.” Just as she says this, there’s a loud bang in the background, followed by a low muttered curse. “Not around the kids, Douglas,” she reprimands. “And that’s exactly why I told you to hire someone to do it.” I can just imagine her rolling her eyes. “I swear your dad is as hardheaded as they come. This is the second finger he’s smashed with a hammer today.”
“Eh. Take it easy on him. You know how much he hates hiring help. And you know he won’t admit he needs it. I think it’s a trait all men have.”
“No truer words have been spoken,” she says with a laugh. “Now,” she huffs out a breath, “tell me what Dr. Becker said.”
“Not much really. My blood work came back fine, which is good. He has me going in for an MRI scan.”
“That sounds serious.”
“I guess maybe it could be, but it could also be nothing. Dr. Becker doesn’t seem to be too concerned yet.”
“What else did he say? He didn’t have any suggestions on what it could be?”
I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and fold the small throw blanket. “With my symptoms, it sounds like it could be neurological. We went over my family medical history again, but I didn’t have anything new to tell him. It’s pretty much a waiting game at the moment.”
“Crap,” Mom mutters. “I didn’t think to tell you.”
I sit up straighter on the couch. “Tell me what?”
“Umm… well….” She clears her throat. “This is hard to tell you. Your grandparents, that is, my parents, weren’t my birth parents.”
“What?” I squeak. “What are you talking about?”