A specialist was called in. He came with a parade of interns, each listening to the bizarre beat, amazed at the phenomenon, but none seemed the least bit alarmed.
After a sonogram; more blood tests, and even a full body PET scan, the head professional prescribed a medication that seemed to calm the unusual sound, hushing that extra echo, so it was no longer in evidence.
When the physician came back alone to her bedside, he told Gemma, it was nothing to worry about; everything was proceeding as planned. She took him at his word, leaving the hospital, without giving it another thought.
She had her medication; all would be fine.
If they don't feel it is dangerous, then why should I worry?
Trouble was, when she looked at the prescription bottle she realized, it had no refill, and she'd been given only a month's supply.
Now, what's up with that?
****
They had told her; next step was radiation, and true to their word, these treatments began two weeks later. First, she was fitted with a confining mask that formed to her features. She was to lay on the hard metal table, her eyes shut, the apparatus strapped over her entire face; it was clamped to the table, as well, so she couldn't get free if she'd wanted to.
Everyone left the room, and for fifteen minutes, Gemma listened to the noises of a room she couldn't see. The machines clunked into position, whirled around her, constantly changing location, again and again. Each time she was aware of the red beam moving over her face. If it went elsewhere, she couldn't tell.
It never hurt. Though, when she returned home after the sessions, her nose had a continual bloody drip...nothing alarming, only annoying, for it drained down her throat at night, giving her a constant cough.
This new department wasn't at all like oncology, where the attention of the nurses and CCA's were ever there to see to your needs. Here, they seemed to feel, you were at their beck and call. An appointment could change at a moment's notice, and you were expected to be available. If it had not been for the volunteer drivers who chauffeured her, Gemma would have missed many an appointment.
Actually it was one of those drivers who over booked, nearly causing Gemma to be late. In the end, they sent a taxi instead.
The first taxi driver was indeed a character. He told her, he was fasting for a month long religious festival. He couldn't eat or drink from sunup until darkness; not even a sip of water, but after nine-thirty at night, his people could eat anything they wanted; could even pig-out until morning, if they choose. The thought brought Gemma up short.
That isn't fasting! Not when you can eat all you want in the evening. You are just changing the time of your meal.
"Why?" she asked.
"To remind us, there are others who go without food."
Gemma was appalled.
And they do this all month? He can't even drink...all day long, and HE is driving me? My life is in HIS hands!
Am I safe?
The second time she was forced to take a cab, that driver extolled the benefits of his beliefs; told her, because she was suffering so much, she was assured of making it into paradise.
Because each new driver seemed to be an immigrant from another country, Gemma got the uncanny feeling she was being watched, scrutinized and graded.
Where are all our home grown people; those who were born here? Are all the jobs only given to the foreigners?
Thankfully, the help program didn't fail her too often.
****
Doctor Gee removed the chart from the pocket in the door, opened it, and stopped short in surprise. He was so used to this by now; most patients being utterly pointless, but here was a tagged one, a prospect he could consider.
I am so tired of serving here. How many years have I been buried in their society? I long to find my partner, and go back home.
If this one is at all suitable, I will cut my loses. Fifty years is too long to be waiting!
Apparently, he had seen this one several times.
Why did I not notice her status before? Perhaps, because there is always another female worker in the room distracting me?
He opened the door; walked forward, hand outstretched to take hers.
She appeared ashamed of her bald head, usually keeping it covered with some sort of kerchief, but today she had removed the covering, anticipating that he would want to see into her eyes.
Why she's beautiful! This one is it! I will remove her from the system, so no one else can have her!
****
Her treatments had continued every day for a full five weeks.
Gemma most detested when she must be examined by the attending physician. Once a week, the man reviewed her progress, sticking a probe up her nose as if he were enjoying her discomfort. He stood over her, with the band holding the lamp around his forehead, oblivious to the fact it was blinding her with its brightness.
He was an elderly gentleman, who appeared totally out of it, seemed away in some other dimension. Sometimes, he peered around the room as though it was unfamiliar, as if he wasn't certain of where he was. Though he had met her a couple of times, interviewed her at the beginning, he never seemed to remember that he had.
Nor did he ever listen to her complaints. It didn't matter what she told him, he simply ignored it. Gemma had learned, it was
