Chapter 8: Rule #8: Only Thing That Matters is to Try.

Beatrice

Dr. Bradly's office was located just outside of Greenville proper. The drive alone was enough to make me not want to come to my scheduled appointment, regardless of the fact that I was being forced to come by my father. A topic that still generated enough inner conflict that made me sick to my stomach.

Fighting against the constant urge to make a u-turn, I still made it to the clinic with enough time to spare. His nurse Regina called me the night before with pre-treatment prep. The more I had learned about this experimental trial drug the more I grew suspicious of if it was actually right for my illness.

But my father trusted Dr. Bradly and didn't see that his money was what fueled Dr. Bradly's decisions, and if I was going to keep the peace for the next two months, I was at my father's mercy.

My father's powerful allies extended far beyond my understanding, or even my comprehension. The fear of the unknown was enough to keep me submissive. Because if my father's debts could sum up the cost of his life. Exactly how powerful were these people.

Procrastinating, I got out of my car and headed into the always unbusy medical clinic. It always struck me as rather odd that there were no other patients while I was here. When I inquired about it, they told me that between my illness and the amount of influence my father had was enough for me to be the only patient during that window of time.

"Good morning, Bea." Regina's perky morning voice greeted me as soon as I stepped foot into the bright clinic.

"Good morning, Regina." I donned on my best smile, even though I really wanted to tell them all to screw themselves so I could go back to bed.

"Come right back, and we will get started with intake and then Dr. Bradly will get you set up for the IV."

I followed through the locked door, which Regina eagerly buzzed me in, waiting for her to meet me at the end of the receptionist's desk, which was always empty with no sign of a receptionist ever working at that desk. Quietly following her in the cold back triage room.

"You know the drill." Regina nodded to my thick sweater that I had worn this morning to ward off the October early morning chill.

I reluctantly took one arm out, refusing to rid my body of its warmth just yet. I watched passively as Regina took my blood pressure, temperature, and all the other things that just become second nature to me. Remembering there once was a time that I was nervous around doctors, where I associated them with pain. Now I just associate them with the feeling of dread.

"It's not bad. But it's not good." Regina commented, as she furiously clicked some tabs on her keyboard.

It's what they always said, that my health wasn't improving but it was more just staying stagnant. Which was a huge contradiction to what they were telling my father. If I was maintaining, then why was I here? What was the big importance of this new trial drug?

"We'll be in room seven today. This way." Regina said always so polite and friendly like we met once a week for coffee and she hated this just as much as I did, with her looks of pity as she left me in the isolated examination room with the IV therapy chair, and weird bed.

"Dr. Bradly will be right in!" She smiled before closing me in the room by myself.

They always made me wait as if he was being held up in another room with other patients before me. When I knew from their own omission that I was the only one here. The complete manipulation of the tactic was more than I could understand. But I stayed. I didn't ask questions or fight against it because I was conditioned to. I was trained to sit and take what was given to me because this is what I deserved. I deserved to be sick.

"Ahh. There's my favorite patient." Dr. Bradly said before the door even opened all the way.

"Good morning, Dr. Bradly," I said kindly to the older man with the salt and pepper hair and the smile that was always firmly locked in place.

"Are we ready for today's new therapy?" He asked, setting down a handful of stuff he was carrying.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I tried to sound enthusiastic, but it was a hard sell.

"I know, I know. Starting new meds can be tough." He said as he came over to the IV tower. "I'm not going to lie, this one has pretty hefty side effects, but we will take today slow, and hopefully get through the whole first set of treatments today."

"First set?" I hesitantly questioned.

"Didn't your dad explain all of this to you?" He asked, laughing as he hung up bags of clear liquid with tubes.

"He just thought it was best if I heard it all from you." I lied.

"Well, we will cross all those bridges when we get to them." Always vague, clear as mud responses.

My phone dangled in my purse, and I looked at Dr. Bradly conflicted, he nodded his head that it was okay for me to pick it up, usually, he was stern about his no phone policy. Opening my phone, I discovered a text message from Beau. I guess Abby had given him my number to reach me for the homeless shelter volunteer day. But he had never texted me until now.

"Oh, a text from a boy. How fun..." Dr. Bradly said peering down from his work on the medications.

"Oh. No. Well, yeah. It is a guy... A man. But it's not my man. It's my best friend Abby's boyfriend." I explained horribly.

"Why is your best friend's boyfriend texting you?" Dr. Bradly asked me as he pulled my arm out from the chair rest to lay flat, pulling the sleeve of my sweater back.

I opened the text and read through Beau's words, as Dr. Bradly swabbed my arm, searching for a good sight for the treatment.

"He's just asking me if I'm free tonight, apparently he's leaving town for a while and wants to get together one last time before he leaves."

"That's nice." Dr. Bradly said as he painfully inserted the IV.

I responded to Beau, as I sat back and let my body absorb the medication, all while my brain absorbed why I was so sad to see Beau go.