Rescued(45)

He shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand through his hair. Then he turned to look at me again before lifting his face to the sky and sucking in a deep breath through his teeth. When he exhaled, it was like all the tension had left his body.

Hunter wrapped his arms around me. I let myself sink into him for a moment, before I threw my arms around him too and hugged him close to me. We had to face this battle together.

When we finally untangled ourselves from each other, a small smile cracked on his lips and he met my eyes sheepishly.

“I gotta be careful what I say around you,” he said. “Else you’re gonna use it against me someday.”

I choked out a laughed, still sniffling and slapped his arm lightly.

Hunter smiled and looked down at the asphalt, lost in his thoughts for a few moments. After a while, he looked at me, his eyes sharp and clear. “Thanks for not letting me do something stupid again. I know it’s been difficult for you.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. That’s what we’re here for right? To save each other from doing stupid things? You’ve saved me a few times already, so I guess it’s my turn now.”

He nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Let’s go back inside. They’re probably gonna call me in soon.”





When we got back inside the clinic we each spent a few minutes in the bathroom, cleaning ourselves up.

Hunter and I sat down after we’d straightened ourselves out. We waited for his name to be called. The old lady and the guy in the wheelchair were gone; they must’ve been called inside already. A few minutes later a doctor cracked the door open.

“Hunter Jensen?”

I squeezed Hunter’s hand and we got up and walked over to the doctor together. The doctor had to be at least sixty. His hair was completely white, and his thick black rectangular glasses covered his wrinkled eyes.

We followed him to the back. The room was like any other doctor’s room, with posters of veins and nerves up on the walls. The beige exam table had seen better days. Its cushioning looked lumpy and uneven and the wood laminate on its base was chipped. Hunter eyed it with a distaste and sat down in one of the waiting chairs. I sat down next to him.

“Hello Hunter,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Miller and I’ll be interpreting your MRI results today.”

He gave us a small smile, then pressed a button on the wall behind the counter. The light box hummed on. Apparently Dr. Miller wasn’t one for small talk. Hunter didn’t say anything, but he did nod. I watched him carefully to see if he was still okay, but I couldn’t read his expression.

I thought I was ready and his mini freakout from earlier had distracted me from my own emotions, but now I was feeling the full weight of what was about to happen. When Dr. Miller produced an extra large manila envelope, I didn’t feel prepared.

“I’ve received the scans back from the test center and had a chance to read them,” he started. He pulled out the films and began put them onto the light box.

Hunter fixated on the images, as if he was trying to interpret them himself.

“Now, your primary care doctor over in Illinois sent me your records. The notes said that you sustained physical trauma to the head recently from ‘cage-fighting.’ Is that correct?”

Dr. Miller raised an eyebrow at Hunter. I held my breath.

“Yeah.” Hunter replied, tearing his eyes away from the MRI scans.

“Well, I’ll cut to the chase. Your doctor was worried about extremely rapid progression of your MS symptoms as a result of the physical trauma you suffered, but the good news is we’ve avoided the worst case scenario.”

We both let out a breath and I gave Hunter’s hand a small squeeze. We were going to be okay.

Dr. Miller cleared his throat and continued, pointing to a few spots on the MRI film. “However, it does appear you have some new lesions on your spinal cord and brain since your last scan.”

The hairs on the nape of my neck rose and my palms grew sweaty. What? I thought we had avoided the worst case scenario.

“So what does that mean?” Hunter asked, frowning.

“Well, even though we’ve avoided the worst case scenario, these lesions are worrying, and could make your next flare-up a lot worse.”

“How much worse?” Hunter asked.

“I can’t say. But I would strongly advise you to refrain from continuing to fight. Sustaining lesions like this is not good for your long-term prognosis with this disease.”

I looked to Hunter’s face, but his brows were furrowed and he didn’t seem to register my concern. Dr. Miller’s words echoed in my mind, but I was only slowly starting to understand what he meant. Hunter was okay for now, but his next episode could be a lot worse if he didn’t stop fighting?