she decided to walk home. It was a warm evening and she couldn't bear the idle chatter of a lonely cab driver.
chapter 5
On Monday morning at ten to nine, Sara walked into the well-scrubbed lobby of a downtown medical building. She avoided her reflection in the shiny panels of marble surrounding the even shinier elevator doors and pressed the illuminated "up" button. When the doors opened, a woman spilled out with her two young children—one barely walking, the other in a stroller. Their screaming made Sara want to flee.
Forcing herself into the elevator, she closed her eyes. They were heavy with the burden of what awaited her. The office door was closed when she arrived, but the handle turned easily. When she stepped into the fluorescent room, a dozen greying heads turned to look at her. Feeling the scrutiny of their collective gaze, Sara inched her way to the reception desk.
"I'm here to see Dr. Porter."
"Yes, I know," the woman behind the counter said. "Judy will take you in a few minutes. Have a seat."
Sara had the unbearable feeling that the woman knew, that they all knew, every detail of her situation. "There's the young one with the blurry eyes." "Oh yes, the photographer who can't see straight." "The poor little girl from Annapolis with the bad genes. She got a rush appointment, you know. Her sight won't last long." Sara could hear the words in their minds. She sank into a chair and tried to keep her heart in her chest.
"Sara?" Judy's gruff voice asked. "Let's get you started with some drops."
Obediently, Sara stood. Walking stiffly, she felt a rush of air as people's heads turned to follow her. Through a maze of halls, Dr. Porter's assistant led her to a darkly lit room with a large, padded chair. Climbing into it, Sara felt small. Sitting back, as the woman instructed, her feet fought to find the bottom rail.
With an eyedropper in her hand, the woman leaned over Sara's frozen body and barked, "Open wide." Sara opened her mouth before she remembered to open her eyes.
With the drops inserted, Sara was ordered back to the waiting room. When she returned, the only seat remaining was between two elderly men whose pupils were perversely dilated. On a younger man she might have found the effect alluring, but in the shrivelled sockets of the sunken faces, it made her shudder.
Unable to look at magazines and unwilling to look at the faces of the other patients, Sara turned inward. She would have to call her editor tomorrow with a decision. Joyce still expected her to finish in Europe and then take a three-week assignment in South America.
An hour later, she was convinced she'd been forgotten. The distracting voices around her were loud and rough—the hoarse prattle of a woman sitting next to her half-deaf husband, the overly chipper voice of a young man with his grandmother, the drone of people talking about the weather.
She was thinking about sneaking out the door when Judy came looking for her.
"Let me see those eyes. Yes, looks like you need another set of drops. Here, tilt back." She opened a bottle with her tightly gripped fist and landed one drop in each of Sara's eyes. "The doctor will be right with you. We'll just have to let those drops sink in."
For the next while, Sara sat trying to drain her mind. It was better if she concentrated on nothing. No words. No feelings. No fear. She tried counting sheep like her father had taught her to do when she couldn't fall asleep. The rhythmic certainty of numbers jumping a fence lulled her into a little bit of comfort.
"Alright," Judy said, "come with me."
With her hand dragging along the wall to guide her, Sara followed the woman back through the maze.
Dr. Porter was an older man with fine white hair and glasses. He smiled condescendingly as Sara climbed into his examination chair.
"Are you a student, dear?" he asked.
"A photographer."
"For the newspaper?"
"I work for a travel magazine."
He waved to his assistant. "Thank you, Judy. That's all." She nodded and closed the door."Well," the doctor said, as he pulled his rolling chair up to Sara, "let's have a look." His hand was rough as he placed it on her chin. He moved her face for her, twisting and straining her neck, so that she found it difficult to swallow. "Yes, just as I thought," he said, squeezing her chin further. "Do you have a history of these symptoms in your family?"
"Ah-hun-no."
"Pardon?" He let go of her chin.
"I don't know."
He pulled her forward until her flesh met his equipment. "Put your chin there." He narrowed the focus of his probe light and intensified the power of the magnification. Then he reached out and tilted her head so that its angle was more comfortable for him. "What I'm seeing here is quite developed."
Sara's head felt heavy on her neck. Although it was a struggle to keep it in place, she was afraid to move.
The doctor leaned back from the viewer. "What you have, dear, is an abnormal growth of blood vessels at the back of your eyes. Although it's very unusual in someone your age, it's quite common in the elderly. I'm going to send you down to the old hospital for dye tests. I'd like to know just where the blood is leaking from. Then we'll get you set up." He turned in his chair, as if finished and expecting her to leave.
Sara shifted her head slightly and forced a large gulp of saliva down her throat. "Wait, I... I don't think I understand."
The doctor turned back and let his tired face show.
"You're going to need surgery. What you have is called macular degeneration. I can't offer you a cure. The only thing I can do is to try and prevent it from getting worse. There are two options, depending upon the results of the dye test. The simpler procedure is laser—it's painless and most people are up and running right away. But if it's as serious as I suspect, then we're going to have to consider incisional surgery."
Sara pictured the hot liquid of a soft-cooked yolk.
"Judy will take care of you." This time Dr. Porter stood to punctuate the end of the appointment.
Sara released herself from the chair and walked to the door, struggling to remember the details of the doctor's prognosis. As she stumbled into the hall, Judy spoke to her in a hushed tone.
"Are you here alone, dear?"
"Yes."
"Oh." She sighed and shifted her weight. "Well, you should-n't be. Is there anyone who can pick you up?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Think about it."
Kyle. He loved coming to her rescue. "I can make a call."
"Perfect. Come with me."
Judy led her by the arm as if she was already blind. She asked for Kyle's number, dialled and then handed the phone to Sara. "Ask him to pick you up. He'll need to spend the afternoon with you at the hospital. It's going to be a long day, and you're not going to be able to see."
Kyle was
