Part Ten - Infected

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It was frightening how intimately familiar she was becoming with her doctor

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It was frightening how intimately familiar she was becoming with her doctor. Well, one of them. Her oncology specialist, Doctor Keller. He was the only one so far who had the balls to tell her the unbridled truth. Even if it was a truth that didn't sit well within her. She knew, deep down somewhere inside of her, beyond the anger, she was thankful for the bluntness. 

Another cloudy grey cotton gown was on her form, donning patterns of polka dots and triangles. She'd never get used to the scratchy tinge of the fabric, no matter how many times she would need to wear it. 

Her left arm was up in the air as she laid against the exam table. Another day, another ultrasound. Although this time, there was just a little bit more peace of mind. No random nurses and radiologists, just her and the man who would be attempting to save her life. 

She was supposed to be back at work by now. Even if it meant ass duty, her fourteen days were up and she had been expected to return. Until a small problem arose and she was forced to take another — well, she'd find out today how many days it would need to be. 

"You've definitely got an infection, Liv." the doctor commented, waving the gelled wand around the sore area. She tried to hide the wince of pain as the apparatus pressed into her skin. "It's a build-up of fluid. The tumors in the lymph nodes are causing a blockage, and it can't filter out the waste it's supposed to." 

She felt dumb for not paying closer attention. Nobody had told her that she wasn't supposed to be having shooting pains in the affected area. They had described discomfort, and her high tolerance for pain had chalked it up to be nothing. She tried ignoring it, in fact. But when her blood results had come back with a high white cell count, she knew that her team would be adamant in finding the problem. 

He handed her a washcloth to dry away the excess gel on her skin and offered her a hand to sit up. After retrieving everything he needed from the machine, he pulled the rolling stool out from under the exam room desk. She could tell from the look on his face already that he was getting ready to read her the riot act... again. 

For two weeks, his presence had become somewhat like Cragen's. A near authoritative figure to keep her on the right track. He had worked with people of all walks of life, her top-cop intimidation tactics didn't do anything to help her case of protesting whatever it was he would be telling her. He was a kind man and clearly caring, but stern enough to get the message across to someone like her who would need a bullhorn to hear it loud enough to believe it. 

"It's been two weeks, you've been stalling on your treatment plan, Olivia." he sighed, giving her a pointed look from rolling chair he was in. "Most of my patients start chemo within days of their diagnosis and I know you wanted to talk about your options, but the longer we wait, the fewer options there are to even consider." 

Her head rolled against her shoulder, her body language screaming that this was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But, as much as she hated it, he was right. She hated herself for stalling so long, but she had other decisions that needed to be made in the meantime. 

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