He was the only male in the universe that had that effect on me, the adorable cur. If only he’d stop chewing up all of my damned dirty socks... but I digress.
My smile slipped a little as what ifs threatened to worm their way back into this small sliver of calm, momentary peace I’d found. Who would take care of this little guy if things came back funny?
Nope. As the worry hit me and I tried to dismiss dark thoughts like that, I shook my head. Not going there.
As if sensing my distress, Cap huffed loudly, a grumble of a chuff. Realizing my hand had stopped petting him as he began to wriggle, I chuckled softly and the doggy pets resumed. Cap settled down immediately. My eyes slowly slid closed as I finally found that deep breath I couldn’t let out.
This whole thing felt like I was sitting here, holding my breath, waiting to exhale. I just prayed when the time came for the results I’d be exhaling in relief, not sucking in another breath to hold. One day at a time, Vel. One day at a damned time.
The Results Are In...
“Could you say that one more time?” I asked, the phone cradled to my ear as I sat down on my couch. My purse and keys flopped somewhere beside me, I believed, Cap jumping into my lap to eagerly greet me not registering at first. Not much of anything registered until she repeated, “Negative. Everything came back fine.”
Thank god, I thought, slumping against the sofa in relief. My hand went to my forehead, lightly resting over the bump of a scar the crater that’d once been there had turned into. It was still sore, but the dermatologist’s office had said that was to be expected.
“Thank you,” I heard myself mumble.
“You’re very welcome.” A pause. “Any questions?”
“I don’t need to come back in or anything, do I?” I blurted.
“Nope. You’re all set.”
“Okay, cool,” I said in a rush.
The woman on the other end of the line, not Stacia, chuckled softly. I must have sounded like a dork but she totally got it, like she heard this often. I didn’t want to think about what it was like when the results came back differently.
Moisture built in my eyes and I knew I might lose it. Negative. No cancer. Gah. I could finally really breathe.
“Thank you,” I said again, like she was the magic cancer charm or ward that had kept it at bay or something.
“You’re very welcome,” she said automatically. “You have a good day now.”
“Yeah... you too. Thanks,” I croaked out and hung up. Setting Cap down beside me, his wiggling butt settling into my hip, I stared down at my phone. I couldn’t properly put to words what I was feeling right now. Elation. Relief. There was a whole lot going on in my head at this moment. Swallowing thickly, I sucked in a deep breath to let it out slowly.
Negative. I’m fine.
Cap’s wet nose, nudging my palm to pet his scruffy, buff and reddish brown colored mixed fur, boxy terrier mix head, jolted me. Impatient for attention, he gave a little yip and started mouthing my hand. “Everything’s going to be fine,” I mumbled, turning my hand to softly run it along his scruff. “I’m going to be fine.”
Chapter 2
“Right,” I said slowly, trying to hide my frustration and barely keeping it together, “but it’s... I dunno. It hurts, and I’d swear it’s getting bigger. It’s been three months. I mean, should I make an appointment and come back in? Is that normal?”
The doctor said tenderness was to be expected, and I got that, but I’d swear the fucking lump was back, bigger, rounder and wider, all around larger. It hurt to the touch and felt hard as a rock. It almost felt like at any moment something might well burst free.
There’s an alien baby in there, I thought with a hysterical laugh, the sound alarming the reception person from the dermatologist’s office on the other line, her rushed spluttering at my erratic behavior as she tried to reassure me having the exact opposite effect.
“I’ll just make an appointment,” I grumbled over her. I was being a taciturn dick and I knew it. My face flippin’ hurt! It felt tight and this constant headache made it almost impossible to work. Not to mention the stares at the strange spot in the middle of my freaking face. Let’s not forget that.
Walking to the full-length mirror as the lady rattled off my appointment time, I noted it, and we hung up. Brow furrowing, I frowned as I stared into the glass. Definitely getting bigger. “Much bigger,” I muttered worriedly.
Damn it. Something was wrong. Definitely off.
The Appointment
Doc stared at my face, leaning in to peer closer at the strange spot.
“Keloid,” he said, but he didn’t sound so sure, if much at all.
“And my face is supposed to feel like someone’s been punching me there?” I asked, wishing I could grimace but knowing it would just cause more pain. It was now a pronounced lump puffing up, almost donut shaped as the middle sort of concaved. What the hell was wrong with my damn face, I wanted to know.
“It looks infected,” I pointed out, jerking a finger at the angry red swelling.
“We’ll prescribe you an antibiotic.” There was that cocky confidence. I noted he made no move to actually touch the spot.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was averse to the idea. I was half tempted to take my shit elsewhere, seek out a second opinion. “And if that doesn’t help?” I asked the thought aloud.
Doc’s mouth worked, moving, but nothing came out. He had a strange look on his handsome face, like he wanted to say something but found he suddenly couldn’t. As his mouth worked and still nothing came out, I resolved myself to that second opinion.
Seconds of Opinion
The pain was blinding. Groaning, I sat up. I was dying. There was definitely something wrong. The swelling had only grown, that second opinion much the same as the first. There was a strange pressure in my face that wasn’t there before, the sharp ache I’d fallen asleep to now a roaring throb. That was when I felt it.
Hopping up, I rushed to the bathroom. Blinking the sleep blurring my vision and the sudden attempted blinding of the bright bathroom lights obscuring my vision, I stood there on wobbly legs, waiting.
One look at myself in the mirror, the strange, dark nub sticking up out of the swollen mound like ring in the middle of my forehead, kissing my hairline, goo and slimy ooze that had erupted from the sac like ball holding it all in crusting my face in a macabre mess, I did the only thing one in such a position as myself did. I gripped the sink on either side and screamed.
My hand lifted toward my face. It was shaking so badly my pinky finger kept jerking, smacking me. “What the Fu...dgy Ding-a-ling bars,” I murmured, blinking rapidly as if that might somehow change the reflection gaping back at me in the mirror. Turning this way and that, a hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it almost looked like I was growing a horn out of the middle of my damned forehead.
“A horn.” Snorting, I laughed. That nervous giggle like chortle morphed into a self-deprecating guffaw. “A horn? Pfft. Just listen to me,” I told the scruffy pup who’d followed me into the bathroom, settling himself down on the dark blue bath mat near the tub to watch his mistress act a fool.