I knew it was bad to use my disease as a reason to not talk to him anymore, but Max had hurt me. Max went off the grid and John made me forget about the man who had broken my heart for just a little while.
That is, until he returned again.
SIXTEEN
I’ve been awake for hours as my new doctor, Dr. Vivek Barad, tampers with a new device I’ll have to use.
As he checks vitals, marking things off the sheet on his clipboard while also asking me questions about my levels of comfort, I’ve been practicing his name in and out of my head.
“Vi-veck Bar-odd,” I sound out the name, rolling it off my tongue.
“That is correct.” He smiles down at me.
Dr. Barad is a very young and handsome Indian man. He has shoulder-length black hair and warm brown skin. His round glasses make him seem older than he really is. I’m sure he wears them purposely, probably for people like me to take him more seriously. He doesn’t seem too much older than John.
I find his age a good thing. He respects my wishes a lot more, unlike Dr. David who mainly respected John’s.
“Okay,” he says in a heavy accent. “I’ve thrown out the old bag of OPX and have inserted a brand new one. You should change the bag out every six to eight hours.” He lifts up my new device, the one I now have to carry everywhere with me. “John and your sister Tessa have mentioned that you are tired of being in bed all day and would like to walk around more?”
I nod. “Yep. I’d like to at least be able to go down the stairs without someone having a heart attack about it.”
He laughs. “I understand, but you must realize this is a disease that can’t be taken lightly, Shannon. I had to go through hula-hoops just to get this device. No one believes the small doses will work for you, but I have faith. They’ll pump through the tubes in your nose and into your lungs every few minutes to keep your lungs stable. The pills I’ve prescribed should give you plenty of energy to get through the day. But remember, any kind of extra activity could damage your lungs even more. You’ve hit a critical level. You are lucky that you are even breathing right now—that the OPX is still working.”
“I understand.” I lower my head, avoiding his eyes.
“Trust me, I am not here to scold you,” he reminds me for the third time today, “I am simply here to make sure my patient is comfortable and happy.” I look up at his bright white smile, watching as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his large nose. “So, this can be carried in a backpack.” He picks up the silver jetpack looking device, twisting it around for me to get a good look. “Or just carried like this. But, regardless of how you decide to carry it, you must have it with you at all times if you don’t plan on taking bags of OPX to last you through the day. It makes a small noise, but can be easily ignored. This was designed to be light and personable for the patient. That way you can go up and down the stairs and not feel as if you’re carrying a two-year-old child.” He places the device on the ground again. “The OPX will keep your lungs functioning properly as long as this device is running. It will beep when it needs a quick battery charge. I’d say it needs at least thirty minutes.”
“Okay. Thirty minutes I can do.”
“Good. Now, you must also remember to keep this tubing free from pinches and bends. Always keep an eye on it. If you can’t, have someone else be on the lookout. We don’t need the airways blocked.”
I nod, looking down at the clear tubing running from my nose to the device. “Got it.”
“So, what will you name this thing? There is some long name for this, but I won’t bother with pronouncing it.” He chuckles, placing his clipboard down on John’s dresser and then folding his arms.
“I think I’m just going to call it my jetpack. With it, I can walk around again. Feel the sun. Go to the lake. Have a little fun at least. To be able to walk now is like being able to fly. Not all OPX patients can afford this thing, right?” I lift it up off the brown rug, resting it on top of the mattress.
“That is right. Consider yourself lucky. Your husband is a great man. He wants nothing but the very best for you, no matter what it costs.”
“Yep. I know.” Everyone knows.
“Well, anyway.” Dr. Barad blows out a breath, unfolding his arms and grabbing his clipboard. “I will be on my way and back in another three and a half hours. Remember everything I said and please do not get carried away. It can be easy to work your body more than necessary. Try walking down half the staircase out there, sit for a few minutes, and then go back up. If that feels like too much then stop and call me. The OPX should help you maintain control of your lungs but anything could happen.” He collects his things, packs them in his bag, and walks to the door.