style="font-size:15px;"> I closed my eyes. “What if I don’t want to go on?”
“Well.” He went about his business and I tried to think of my “happy place.” Sunning on the beach, with plovers and turnstones soaring overhead, rolling surf—ouch!
The mystery tool.
“Trust me,” the doctor said. “Given time, the pain will ease and some morning you’ll wake up and decide life’s a pretty good deal after all.”
“If you say so,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’m still in the tearful stage—but making progress.”
Later I sat in his plush leather office chair and waited for results. Demons swarmed my mind. Had he found something? Would he walk through that door with a sober expression and regretfully break the news that I had only scant weeks to live? I shuddered, clasping my arms around my middle. There had been an odd pain recently—near the upper rib cage. What organ would that involve? Did they have treatment for my particular case? No. They wouldn’t if I had scant weeks to live.
Scant. How many weeks were in “scant,” anyway?
I had broken out into a cold sweat when Dr. Bates sailed into his office and sat down behind his desk.
“First the good news—you’re healthy as a horse.”
I felt faint with relief, although the comparison wasn’t exactly flattering.
“You’re a little anemic, but nothing unusual for a woman your age. And you could use a few extra pounds. So eat up.” He scribbled on a pad, then tore off the sheet and handed it to me. “Get this filled and take one a day. With food.”
I scanned the prescription. “Okay.”
The doctor settled back in his chair, his dark eyes studying me. “Now for the bad news.”
I glanced up, heart racing. He’d said I was healthy as a horse. I knew it—healthy as a horse can be in my condition.
“Your right eardrum has a small tear, minute but worrisome. You fly almost every week, if I recall.”
I nodded. “Twice a week. I teach classes out of state.”
He shook his head and steepled his forefingers, resting his mouth against them for a prop. “Sorry, Kate, but I’m going to have to ground you. That tear will heal if we’re careful. If not, I’ll want to watch it over a period of time before we consider surgery. You’ll be running the risk of hearing loss in that particular ear if we don’t take care of the problem once and for all. Didn’t we talk about this last year?” He glanced at my chart. “You were complaining of pressure, and you had a sinus infection and drainage.”
I nodded. He’d touched on the subject, but at the time the eardrum wasn’t perforated.
“I have considerable discomfort on takeoffs and landings. Even with the antibiotic and allergy medicine you prescribed last year, the pain is intense.”
“Then you’ve got to stay out of planes for a while.”
“But my job…” Did I have to remind him I was sole breadwinner now, and my job necessitated flying?
He shook his head, his expression stern. “That right ear is in jeopardy. You’re grounded—at least until the problem is corrected. Talk to your superiors. I’m sure something can be worked out.”
I left the sprawling medical complex in a daze. If I couldn’t travel, I couldn’t teach. If I couldn’t teach, La Chic would have to replace me. And who knew for how long or if I’d ever get the position back? Dr. Bates had said the tear might not heal even if I were careful. Surgery loomed like an approaching cold front.
I took a chance that Maria, my superior, would still be in her office. When I pulled into the salon, I saw her white Lexus parked in back. I used the employees’ entrance.
Maria glanced up when I tapped on her door. The French-born, attractive brunette always seemed rushed, so I stated my case as quickly as possible.
She folded her hands on the desk and stared at me, noncommittal for a moment. I could see my career—and paycheck—flying out the window.
“For how long, chérie?”
“The doctor doesn’t know—there’s no way to know. Maybe as long as a year.”
“A year.” She gave a French-sounding tssk. The row of silver arm bracelets tinkled melodiously when she reached up and touched her cheek. “One year. Disturbing.”
“Maybe sooner,” I offered. I adored my job, and I didn’t want to lose any part of it, though the idea of not flying made me almost giddy. No more angst-filled flights, crowded airports and overbooked airlines. No more cold and impersonal hotel rooms, lugging baggage, cabs in unfamiliar cities. I hadn’t realized it before, but now I was stunningly aware I didn’t really want to fly anymore. In fact, I didn’t care if I never saw another plane.
“Well, you are much too important for us to lose, ma chérie.” Maria smiled. “I will make a phone call in the morning—perhaps something can be worked out. Your talents are not limited to teaching, Kate. La Chic can work around your condition until you are healed.”
For the second time that day I felt faint with relief. I could keep my job. If God and I had been on speaking terms, I would have thanked Him.
“See me tomorrow.” Maria dismissed me with a harried glance. “We’ll talk then.”
When I climbed back into my car I realized I had survived yet another disaster and not come unglued. Life was getting better.
Kate, you’re made of Teflon, I told myself.
But in fact I knew I was made of pudding, and one more catastrophe would send me over the edge.
What would La Chic do with me? I could always work in the shop, but I knew that without the teaching challenge I would get bored easily, and I didn’t want to dip into the insurance money. I needed something more than cuts and permanents; I needed the adrenaline that came with watching talented students evolve into gifted stylists under my tutelage.
But then beggars can’t be choosers, so I would take whatever Maria could find, and baby my right ear until I could resume travel.
No more flights for a while.
Maybe I’d have Kris and Kelli offer a brief thank-you to God tonight in their prayers.
Will Rogers World Airport teemed with travelers when the girls and I climbed out of a shuttle Saturday morning. My head was still spinning from the rapid changes gripping my life.
Maria had called me into her office Thursday morning and broken the news—La Chic’s affiliate San Francisco salon needed a manager. The present one had been involved in a car accident two days before and required a lengthy recuperation period. There was only one hitch. The girls and I had to move to California.
At first the idea repulsed me. Leave everything I’d ever known—including irreplaceable memories of Neil? I couldn’t do it…yet I couldn’t remain immobile forever. Everywhere I looked, every street
