Today's Reading
"Yes, they're filming here. She's got a place in the city, and she loves her job," Tilda said. "How's Prisha?"
Gurinder smiled, clearly delighted to talk about her daughter. "Final year of medicine but is going into infectious diseases and immunology."
"Smart girl. Give her my best." Tilda felt like they should be ordering a couple of flat whites to go with the chitchat. She glanced at her hand, eager to move on to a diagnosis.
Gurinder continued to drill. "Have you been in a relationship since the divorce?"
"No...nope."
"When was the last time you had a sexual partner?"
What did that have to do with anything? "Eighteen months ago. I dated someone briefly, but it didn't work out."
Gurinder kept typing. "Was he your last sexual partner?"
"Yes, he was," Tilda lied. There had been one other, but she did her best to forget him, so naturally, he didn't count.
"Are your periods still regular?"
"A few days out on either side."
Any hot flashes?"
"No." Apart from now, with all these questions that had nothing to do with her finger—or ear, for that matter.
Gurinder stood. "Come, I'll examine you."
Tilda sat on the table while the doctor checked her reflexes, her heart, pulse, and blood pressure. She did a breast exam and felt her glands. And then she pulled the curtain around the bed. "Undress and I'll do a smear."
Gurinder returned to her desk while Tilda removed her clothes, folded them neatly on a chair, and slipped on one of the gowns provided. Then she lay on the table.
She hated this.
A long moment later, the doctor stepped into the cubicle, snapping rubber gloves on.
"Knees up, Tilda."
Tilda did as she was told, looking around the room as if she had a renewed interest in the same décor she'd seen countless times. Her gaze rested on a faded print of an old woman feeding a duck and Tilda gave it her full attention, as one would an original Monet. Meanwhile, Gurinder took a speculum and spatula from their wrapping and then turned her attention to...
"Dear god, your vagina has gone too."
Tilda bolted upright, and the doctor laughed and guided her back down.
"Only joking. It's still there, dear."
Tilda faux laughed, but she felt like punching her in the face. Today was traumatic enough, but at least she could explain a missing finger to a date. She stared at the woman and duck until Gurinder finished the inspection with "All looks good down there."
"That's a relief." It was. In Tilda's experience, men often found it difficult to find her clitoris when it was visible.
"Get dressed while I organize some referrals."
Tilda took her time putting her clothes back on. She listened as Gurinder made a call. "Kate, Gurinder speaking. I have a patient here who needs some tests as soon as possible...bloodwork and a CT...hmm...yes...yes... excellent. Name is Tilda Finch. I'll let her know."
Tilda yanked the curtains back and returned to her seat while Gurinder typed something and then printed out the paperwork.
"They'll fit you in," she said.
Tilda tried to decipher the doctor's face, but today, with her glasses and thick black hair pulled back in a tight bun, Gurinder wasn't giving anything away.
Fear came over Tilda again. Marie Curie said that nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood, and Tilda tried to remember that whenever this all-too-familiar state consumed her. When fear's long, gnarled fingers clutched at her skin, she tried to find practical ways to break her fear down and address it. What was she afraid of? Would more information help? Was the fear a reasonable one? While that didn't work for huntsman spiders, it certainly helped with flying. But now panic was rising.
"Do you think I have cancer?"
"Cancer is unlikely."
"Then what?"
Gurinder's expression gave nothing away. "Let's not jump to conclusions until we rule everything out."
"But it could be serious?"
"Best we wait."
"Gurinder, please. I'd rather have some idea of what your suspicions are, otherwise I really will just jump to the worst possible conclusion."
Gurinder nodded. She understood. "I suspect it's invisibility disorder, from the Latin invisibilis morbus. You have all the symptoms, but I can't be sure until we run these tests."
Tilda's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."
"Invisibility," Gurinder said. "You're becoming invisible."
Tilda stared at the doctor. "I've heard of it. I know women talk about it, but I thought it was more metaphorical. Or at the very least, incredibly rare."
Gurinder forged on. "Actually, it's not uncommon in women as they get older."
"Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Most women who suffer from invisibility notice the symptoms in their early fifties, but I had a patient recently who was still in her thirties. That poor girl suffered a dreadful case of it. Woke up one morning and couldn't see her own head."
This excerpt ends on page 12 of the hardcover edition.
Monday we begin the book We All Live Here by Jojo Moyes.
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