A Fight to Remember

Diagnosis

February 27 2034

Meredith

"It's probably a tumor," I said, as I faced Dr. Allen after I described my symptoms. It was about 2:00pm and I was at Dr. Allen's office at Seattle Presbyterian Hospital. I had just described my forgetfullness, my memory lapses during surgery and my disorientation. "Or it could be my thyroid..." I was in denial and I knew it, but it couldn't be helped. Although last night in my drunken conversation with Maggie it seemed clear that it was my crap genes giving me Alzheimers, the hopeful side of my brain was working overtime to balance my early cynicism. I had just underwent a battery of scans and tests, MRI, PET, EEG, bloodwork. Now I was about to be subjected to an extensive neurological exam, I felt nauseous, this test would be worse than my boards, I was sure. "I bet it's a tumor."

Dr. Allen nodded. He was a tall thin man with glasses and greying hair. "Dr. Grey, you know as well as I do, that this disease is usually diagnosed out of a process of elimination."

"Of course." I said, pacing the office. Dr. Allen had made it quite homey actually. Besides the rather large desk and the two mandatory chairs in front of them, the walls were lined with bookshelves and pictures of his family. A small table in the corner had a vase with flowers.

"Are you sure you don't have anyone to be here with you for this? It usually helps, especially with someone like you who is so familiar with the disease."

I knew what he implied. Because I was a doctor, because I knew all the tests and procedures that went along with this, I most likely had workarounds that would make it easier for me to answer his questions. Having another person with me would help confirm some of my behaviors. My gaze drifted to a larger picture of his family. Dr. Allen and his wife stood behind their teenage daughter in a graduation gown. I didn't want anyone here with me today, even Alex. Here, now, I was vulnerble, exposed, and I couldn't bear to have anyone witness it. "Can we... just do the tests please?"

"Please have a seat, Dr. Grey."

I sighed and sat down, waiting for the inevitable.

"I'm going to give you an address, and I want you to remember it because I will ask you what it is later."

"Okay."

"4515 Spring Close."

"4515 Spring Close." I repeated.

"Now, what's today's date?"

"Feburary 27, 2034."

Dr. Allen tapped something on his tablet. He continued to do so throughout the questionairre "Where are you?"

"Seattle Presbyterian Hospital."

"What are the names of your children?"

"Zola, Bailey, Ellis."

"Where do you work?"

"Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital."

"Good." Dr. Allen paused, and pulled out some flashcards.

"Okay, name these objects,"

"Balloon, lamp, tree, cup, car."

"Spell tiger backwards."

"Tiger, R-E-G-I-T."

"Where are you again?"

"Grey Sloan Memorial."

He took off his white coat. "What's my name?"

My eyes instantly drifted to where his nametag would be, but he had removed his coat. "Umm... Doctor... Doctor-" It was on the tip of my tongue, "Sorry, I'm terrible with names..."