Chapter 13: The Truth in the Scan
The consultation room was smaller than the waiting area, with a desk, three chairs, and a monitor turned toward the clinician. Nora chose the chair nearest the door. I sat beside her only after she nodded toward it.
The clinician introduced herself, then asked Nora how she was feeling before they discussed the images.
“Tired,” Nora said. “And I want to know what you can tell me.”
The clinician turned the monitor so Nora could see it.
“The scan shows a reduction in the areas we’ve been tracking,” she said. “That’s an encouraging response to treatment.”
Nora’s hand tightened around the strap of her bag.
“How much of a reduction?”
The clinician explained the measurements, comparing the new images with the earlier ones. I followed the words as best I could, but I watched Nora. She listened without interrupting, eyes fixed on the screen.
“So the treatment is working?” she asked.
“It appears to be helping,” the clinician said. “This is a good sign. But one scan can’t tell us what will happen next, and it doesn’t mean the lymphoma is gone. We need to continue the treatment plan and monitor how you respond.”
Nora let out a breath. It sounded almost like a laugh, except there was no humor in it.
“Good sign,” she repeated.
“Yes. A genuinely good sign.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The clinician gave Nora time, then explained the next steps: more treatment, follow-up appointments, blood work, and another scan on the care team’s schedule. She reviewed which symptoms should prompt a call and which would require urgent attention. Nora asked about side effects and what might change if they did not ease.
The conversation stayed practical. No one promised an outcome the images couldn’t promise.
When the clinician finished, she asked Nora if she had questions.
“Not right now,” Nora said. “I may have several later.”
“That’s completely fine. You can contact us as they come up.”
Nora nodded and closed the folder in her lap.
“Thank you for explaining it clearly.”
After the clinician left, Nora remained still for several seconds. I kept my hands on my knees. I wanted to tell her how relieved I was, but relief felt too large to put over her experience.
At last, she looked at me.
“It’s better than I was afraid it might be.”
“Yes.”
“But it isn’t a cure.”
“No.”
“And you don’t get to turn one good scan into a promise.”
“I won’t.”
She studied my face, perhaps checking whether I understood the difference between hope and certainty.
Then her shoulders lowered a fraction.
“I’m relieved,” she said. “I’m also still scared.”
“You can be both.”
“I know.” She glanced toward the door. “I just needed to hear the result before I figured out what I felt.”
“That makes sense.”
“It doesn’t mean everything between us is fixed.”
“I know that, too.”
Nora looked down at the folder. “I can accept help with the rides we’ve already discussed. I can ask for more if I need it. But I’m not handing you control of my care because you’re Maisie’s father.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to. You decide what help you want. I’ll ask before I offer anything beyond what we’ve agreed.”
She held my gaze for another moment, then gave a small nod.
The door opened. Maisie stood in the hallway beside Miss Evelyn, the drawing folder tucked against her chest. Nora rose, and Maisie came to her without waiting for an invitation.
“Did they tell you?” Maisie asked.
“They did.”
“Is it bad?”
Nora crouched so she was at Maisie’s eye level.
“The scan showed that the treatment is helping so far. That’s good news. I still need more treatment, and the doctors will keep checking.”
Maisie’s mouth moved as she took that in.
“So you’re getting better?”
“I’m having a good response right now,” Nora said carefully. “We’ll keep taking it one step at a time.”
“Can I see the picture?”
“There isn’t a picture I can show you. But I can tell you what the doctor said.”
“Okay.”
Maisie leaned into her mother. Nora wrapped an arm around her and held her there. I stayed where I was. The relief in the room didn’t belong to me alone, and neither did the fear.
Miss Evelyn touched Maisie’s shoulder.
“I can take her to get something to eat while you talk, if you want.”
Nora glanced at me, then back to Miss Evelyn.
“Thank you. We’ll be a few minutes.”
Maisie turned to me.
“Are you coming back?”
“I’m here,” I said. “And I’ll wait until your mom says we’re ready to go.”
She watched me, then nodded and went with Miss Evelyn. It wasn’t a test I could pass once and be done with. It was a moment in a long series of moments.
Nora and I stepped into the hall. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes briefly.
“I can drive if you want,” I said. “Or I can call a car. It’s your choice.”
“Let’s wait until I’ve had something to eat. Then I’ll decide.”
“Of course.”
She opened her eyes.
“You have somewhere you need to be?”
“The company has questions. Priya has the operations plan, and the board chair has the final version. I don’t have to leave this minute.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
I knew what she meant. She wasn’t asking whether my calendar was clear. She was asking whether I had made room for her without resenting the cost.
“I have obligations,” I said. “But I won’t ask you to choose between your health and my career. And I won’t ask Maisie to make that choice for us.”
Nora looked toward the consultation-room door.
“You can’t promise the company won’t demand more from you.”
“No. I can promise I won’t make you responsible for deciding what I give it.”
Her expression shifted, not quite softened.
“That’s a better answer.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t take it out.
“Check it,” Nora said. “If it’s urgent.”
I glanced at the screen. The board chair’s name was there, followed by a message asking for a call when I was free. No emergency marker. No details.
“It can wait until we’re done here,” I said.
Nora watched me put the phone away.
“Don’t turn this into a performance,” she said. “I don’t need you to prove anything by ignoring work.”
“I’m not. I’m choosing to finish this conversation first.”
She accepted that without thanking me.
We found Maisie and Miss Evelyn at a small table near the clinic café. Maisie was eating crackers and had opened her folder on the table. Her drawing of the pendant rested on top, the three stars still separated.
Nora told her they would talk more at home. Maisie asked if the next appointment was soon. Nora said the care team would give them the schedule before they left. Then Maisie asked if Miss Evelyn could still pick her up on treatment days.
“Yes,” Nora said. “And I’m going to talk with your school counselor about the after-school program for days Miss Evelyn can’t come.”
“Do I have to talk in front of my class?”
“No. You won’t be asked to explain private things to your class.”
Maisie looked at her, then nodded and returned to her crackers.
When we were ready to leave, Nora chose a car. She asked me to ride with them, and I did. I sat in the back beside Maisie, leaving the middle seat empty until she shifted closer on her own. She held her drawing folder on her lap.
At the hospital entrance, Miss Evelyn met us. Nora asked her to take Maisie home for the afternoon while she made a call to the clinic about scheduling. Maisie looked to Nora for confirmation.
“I’ll be home later,” Nora said. “We’ll talk tonight.”
Maisie hugged her, then turned to me.
“Will you come another day?”
“If your mom agrees and you want me there,” I said.
Maisie considered that, then tucked the folder under her arm.
“Okay.”
It wasn’t a promise of forever. It was a question with room for another day.
After they left, Nora and I stood beneath the awning while the car pulled away. She had chosen to walk home slowly after making her call, so I didn’t ask again about driving her. I waited while she spoke to the clinic, then took a few steps aside to return the board chair’s call.
He answered immediately.
“We reviewed the operating plan and Priya’s assessment,” he said. “The delegated structure is workable. The phased rollout can continue under her authority, with the escalation path you proposed.”
“Good. Priya has the authority she needs.”
“For now,” he said. “The board still needs a clear long-term arrangement. We’re not asking you to abandon the plan, but we need to decide whether this level of delegation is compatible with your role.”
I looked through the glass at Nora, who was reading a message on her phone. I could see the clinic folder under her arm.
“Understood,” I said.
“We’ll schedule a final vote. The question will be whether you can continue as CEO under these boundaries, with Priya leading operations as outlined.”
“When?”
“Monday morning. You’ll have time to address the board before the vote.”
“I’ll be there.”
The chair paused.
“Be prepared for the possibility that the board doesn’t agree with your proposal.”
“I am.”
When I ended the call, Nora slipped her phone into her bag.
“Work?” she asked.
“Work.”
“Did you decide anything?”
“Not yet. The board scheduled a vote for Monday. They’ll decide whether the structure I proposed is enough.”
“And if they vote no?”
“I’ll have to decide what I’m willing to change. But I won’t put that choice on you.”
Nora’s eyes stayed on mine.
“I didn’t ask you to leave the company.”
“I know.”
“I’m not asking you to stay, either.”
“I know that, too.”
She gave a brief nod and turned toward the sidewalk.
May you like
The scan had offered us a reason to hope. The board had placed my future on a ballot. Between those two facts, there was no answer I could borrow from anyone else.
Monday morning, I would have to give mine.
