Even though I had been getting ready for the worst, nothing could have gotten me ready for Olivia's next words. The room seemed to tilt, and I felt my grip on reality lose as though I might be about to tumble into a hole.
Olivia began, her voice hardly shaking. "Your sperm count is... much lower than normal," Dr. Patel stated. We very unlikely will be able to conceive on our own."
Her insight carried the weight of a tidal wave. Fighting to keep my cool, my throat clenched and my breath stopped. Her words felt like a weight dropping on me; each syllable led me back to the dreams lingering between our palms.
I tried to suppress my answer, but Olivia's eyes' urgency and anxiety exposed the degree of her suffering. Seeing her so vulnerable broke my will; she had been my friend through every hardship. I grabbed her close and sank my face into the curve of her neck. Her body warmed, far from the icy reality we knew.
"We'll find a way," I responded, sounding both panicked and hopeful. I wasn't sure if I was trying to comfort either her or myself. Every last attempt, every hopeful doctor's appointment had taken us to this point; now, faced with the inexorable truth, I battled to see a route ahead.
Olivia's breathing was shallow, and I could feel little quivers running through her body. Usually, the more serene one of us was, the news had spun her out of control. She said, "I'm so sorry," nearly audible.
Long ago, I inhaled trying to slow down my racing heart. "We have conquered challenges before, Olivia. We have always found a way through, I remarked, sounding more resolved than I have lately. "This is just another obstacle."
But staring at her, her fluttering hope seemed to wither. Given our child might not be biologically ours, chewing on this unpleasant pill became challenging when we thought about using a sperm donor. Everything seemed to be flying away after so long of dreaming about this event. It was alien and unsettling to think of another man's genetic DNA joining our family.
Olivia pulled back gently, staring at me for a flash of strength or confidence. "What should we do Ethan going forward? What should I do to go ahead?
Her question remained in the air, a weighted quiet separating us. I had neither rapid solution nor magical drugs. I could only offer my relentless commitment to cross this uncharted territory with you.
Not knowing what more there was to discuss, I said at last, "I'll talk to Dr. Patel." We had run out of every substitute. "Perhaps there is something we have not considered; some other path we might investigate."
Olivia nodded, but her eyes were far off and her head whirled clearly over the implications of our situation. "This seems odd even though we have always been able to manage anything together. It also spans our present.
Reaching out, I gently clasped her hand. "We'll figure it out," I said trying to convey certainty. "We have always had more power taken as one. Right now, we just have to hang onto that strength.
Olivia laughed a little in appreciation, but her brow still revealed lines of tension. As she rose to go, I could see the fight in her eyes—the weight of the uncertainty suddenly upon us. I wanted to be the pillar of support she needed even as I felt the same worry and doubt nibbling at me.
"Thank you for coming to tell me," I said with real resonance. "We will make it through this."
Her face was pallid yet strong; she nodded. "I hope so," she said then turned to face the door.
She went and I felt a bit helpless. The future that had appeared so clear-cut and forward now lay veiled in ambiguity and anxiety. Going back to the big windows, the brilliant cityscape outside stood quite opposite the inner struggle.
But my phone hummed on the desk as I sank more into the gloom. Looking at the screen, I caught a quick, cryptic message in simple language suggesting to reveal a big secret about our situation from an unidentified number. "I know something about your treatment that might turn everything around," my heart hammered. Come see me tonight.
I became depressed reading the message. This individual may be anyone and what would they possibly know to turn our fate around? My head swirled with questions, and as I made ready to leave the office, I knew that this new turn in our lives might either be the key to our problems or another layer of complication to overcome.
Expectancies and anxiety racing through me, I stood at the window. Tonight would expose revelations that will fundamentally alter our understanding. The road ahead stayed unknown, and I started to wonder whether this accidental correspondence would be the key to our future.
I turned to check my phone; on the screen, the message shone like a lighthouse among shadows. See me tonight; every sentence could be a clever trap or lifeline; I know something about your treatment that might make all the difference.
I shook hands softly, trying to control my breathing, then went for my coat and keys. Though the message was vague, its implications were unambiguous. Someone understood something very important about our situation—something that may either save us or send a horrible turn on our already difficult path.
Running to reach the elevator, ideas flew across my head. One finds someone like this quite naturally. One former client—probably with direct knowledge—a disgruntled employee? The nervousness tore at me while my instincts told me this was important. I had to exercise caution, but I couldn't ignore the revolutionary quality.
One arrived at the city café on a blackened road shrouded in a red-light haze. My thoughts were a mixture of hope and terror. Tucked down in a quiet area of the city, the poorly lit café sign was hardly visible against the nighttime shadows. Parking the car, I turned toward the door, each step reflecting my growing unease.
A small number of customers seated at café tables whispered quiet talk. Turning around, I surveyed the room searching for any hint of the unidentified person. Perched in a corner booth, I noticed someone hiding half of their face in darkness.
One missing heart pulse from my chest. I was supposed to come upon someone precisely like this. I moved deliberately looking for the underlying sense in the shadow. Rising his head as I got closer, the man asked driven by Dr. Patel His presence bothered me as much as relaxed.
Said Dr. Patel, "Mr. Blackwood," his voice a blend of formality and civility. That you could make me happy.
Still much on my mind, I proceeded to the seat across from him. Why, doctor Patel, are you here? About just exactly what is this?
Dr. Patel leaned forward with a strong, austere face. "I have come upon certain figures contradicting all we presently know about your treatment and outcomes. I thought you should know even though I could email or call on the phone.
The shutter dropped from behind. We are discussing the kind of stuff this website presents. Why then is silence—quiet still silent?
Dr. Patel fixed a serious look. Your test results showed a blatant mistake—no, a series of mistakes. Data errors could help to explain the strong diagnosis.
I had a brief flash of uncertainty mingled with hope. Would you like to know whether we might still naturally conceive?
The mediator nodded in moderation. True, even if life presents more challenges than that. Beyond a simple typographical error, misreporting originates from illegal access to private data.
My pulse spun about. "Universal authorization access!" That refers to something.
At that, Dr. Patel stopped and then continued. "It implies someone might have deliberately changed your results. Here there is no sloppiness involved. Someone told you to come to terms with the lack of hope.
His comments certainly have a great impact. Does someone want to punish our decisions? What then is meant for? My suggestions ran over the list of reasonable incentives for medical record reviewers.
"Do you know someone that might fit behind this?" In a cool voice, I asked.
Shaking his head, Dr Patel remarked, "I'm looking but for now I lack definite answers. Still, I wanted to make sure you saw the situation. Given there is much danger, you really must be ready for what is to follow.
Urgent became all I paid for. In both cases, should I act?"
Sliding a file over the table toward Dr. Patel, he continued, "This comprises the changed information as well as an overview of the thus far carried out studies." Spend some peaceful time on it. I also advise swift protection of your rights both personally and professionally. Someone has started a deadly game; you have to be ready for everything.
I shook hands, then reached out for the file. Thank you supposedly from Dr. Patel.
The café door opened jingly just before I could have begun. One spoke in. My tongue halted to name the shadow. It was Vincent Reeves; his smile across the hall was really good. He turned to look at our exhibit and then gestured toward the café.
"Looks like the night's not over yet," Dr. Patel said, low and tight. You stop right immediately straight front. Tomorrow I shall be seeing you once more.
I stood quickly and searched. Before Reeves started here, I had to go. Turning to run to the door, I witnessed Dr. Patel slink out the opposite exit.
Vincent followed me and I could feel his pokes on my buttocks. Heart pumping, I followed the evening air. My thoughts flew quickly and aggressively. Reeves was playing here; what consciousness of this mounting dilemma did he have?
One thing was quite obvious: the revelations of the evening determined the starting point. The stakes were higher than they had ever been, even though the future was yet unclear. The game had evolved and I became caught in the logical whirlpool. Starting turned out to be the actual difficulty; the answers I needed were just beyond my grasp.