Just a note to those whose comments came through on FF as from guest, I appreciate what you have to say, even though I can't respond directly.

Chapter 73. ACCEPTANCE

Allison

Can Dr. Brodsky do anything more for me, I wonder, as Greg and I approach his

office. He's a specialist. Maybe he knows of something that my husband hasn't

unearthed. Doubtful, but I can hope.

I should be content with all that I have. It's everything I've wanted for a long time, and even more. But since there's still a good chance that my eyes will get better, I can't accept this blindness and go on.

I guess I've never been able to accept defeat. OK, I gave up on the idea of a

future with Greg for a long while, but I think I always believed that it could

still happen some day. I've never given up on my dream of a career as a doctor

and I certainly won't now, no matter what happens.

The hopelessness of Ingrid's illness in her last weeks was very hard to accept.

I can only imagine how Nils and Audra felt.

When the Swensons insisted that Nancy take Audra, I knew it was because they'd

accepted the inevitable. But I also knew that we all had to do everything we

could to make Ingrid's last days as comfortable as possible, and to help Nils

through this sad time.

I stopped in one afternoon after doing my rounds. Ingrid seemed to be asleep,

but she just had her eyes closed. It helped her deal with the pain, I guess.

She was murmuring to Nils, telling him things he should do once she was gone.

"You'll give my clothes to Goodwill," she said. "And my jewelry goes to Audra,

of course."

He just nodded, then noticed her closed eyes. "Yes, my dear."

"Hello, Ingrid," I called out so that she'd know I was there. "Nils, is there

anything I can get either of you?"

"No, no, Dr. Cameron," he replied. Over time I'd learned that he wasn't one to

ask for help, much like someone else I knew well.

"Are you comfortable, Ingrid?" I asked. "I can ask them to give you

something more for the pain."

"Allison, it's been worse. Dr. Wilson has done all he can to make this bearable,"

she said. She didn't have to add 'but not better'.

I didn't know what else to say or do, so I left, telling Nils to call me if

they needed anything.

Dr. Brodsky comes into the room. I know because he makes his presence known by

booming, "Are you two here again?"

"We'll just keep coming back until Allison's eyes have fully recovered," Greg

counters. I've never heard him put it like that before.

"Dr. Brodsky, the drops you gave me aren't helping much," I say, trying not to

sound as accusatory as my husband.

"Has there been any change?" the doctor asks.

"It's not quite as black, as dark as it was," I say. "But that's it."

"Her eyes are still not as green as they were," Greg adds. Like that's as

important as whether or not I can see. Then again maybe he knows something I

don't.

"Hmmm. OK, let's see."

Once more Brodsky gently places my chin on the rest. I can feel the frame of the examination machine around my head. Suddenly I see a bright light in my right eye. "I see that! My right eye," I exclaim. I strain because I think I should see something with my left eye next. And there it is! "Now my left," I state.

"Good. We're making progress," Brodsky says. "There are some new drops. They

haven't been approved yet." He seems to hesitate, maybe daring Greg to comment.

"MP 684," is all my husband says, giving the designation for the formulation they're

using for the trials, I imagine.

"Trials have been promising," Brodsky argues.

"With cataract patients," Greg points out. "This is a little different."

"It's also worked for glaucoma. With the way Allison responded to the last

drops, I think she should try these," the ophthalmologist says.

Why do I sense that Greg is hesitant? "OK," I say.

"Allison!"

"Since when did you become so conservative?" I ask, but I don't wait for an

answer. "Besides, they're my eyes."

"Exactly!" Greg says. "And I don't want to risk any more damage to them."

"Dr. Brodsky, what are the risks?"

"A minimal risk of infections, but we don't really know yet. There's not enough

data yet."

"Greg, I think we should give this a try." I'm not quite pleading.

He sighs. "Fine." But he doesn't sound too happy. I'm sure this is not the end

of it.

I won't give up on my eyes just as I didn't give up on Doris Schultz.

I'd left Ingrid still giving Nils instructions. I'd always thought she was one

of those meek and subservient women, but just as I'd learned that Nils was a

proud man, I'd also learned that he often listened to her gentle persuasion.

Before I reached my office, I heard Nancy call me. "I've been trying to catch

up with you all day."

"What's up?" I asked.

"Did you know that Ruth Schultz's mother has MS?"

"She does? No! I guess I never asked. I mean, I knew she was ill and that the

girl always went home right after school to take care of her," I said.

"Well, you knew more than I did," Nancy replied.

"I feel so terrible that I never tried to find out."

"Collins is her doctor, and he's never sent her to a specialist," Nancy told me.

When I looked puzzled, she added, "Audra went home with Ruth after school

yesterday, and when I went to pick her up, I asked Ruth."

"Did you examine her?" I was becoming more and more concerned.

Nancy shook her head. "She was asleep. Besides, I'd probably need a referral

from Collins."

"I wish I could do something to help."

Nancy smirked at me. "Yeah, I knew you'd want to. We could call Collins and ask

for her file, see how bad it is and what he's tried."

I smirked back. "You set me up, didn't you?"

"I didn't think you'd mind."

But all I could think about was what I could do for this woman I didn't really

know, and what House would say about my desire to try.

Chapter 74. WHO CARES?

"You know you can leave me alone with the baby and go back to work," Allison

insists again, just as she has for almost a week. "Gretchen's here most of the

time to help me."

"I hate to burden the kid." It's good that Allie feels so confident in her own ability but I hate to give up this convenient excuse to avoid the hospital. Am I finding my job less of a challenge? After all these years, am I bored with even the more puzzling cases that are sent to me? Cuddy just called about one yesterday. No obvious diagnosis, rapidly changing symptoms. Right up my alley. Yet I wasn't the slightest bit intrigued.

It's not as if I have to fight with her over clinic hours, at least not much

anymore. She has enough other doctors willing to waste their time doling out

antibiotics and cold meds.

Am I reluctant to be away from my wife and kids? Am I afraid that I'll miss

seeing each new change in my little son?

"Greg, I'm not pushing you away," Allie says. "You've taken such good care of

me and the baby."

"He's my son too."

"I know you'll hate me saying it, but you've been so sweet!" She grins at me.

She's playing me, I know. But I also know I have to let her at least try to

handle things on her own.

"Let's just try it for half a day for a while," she suggests.

"Mornings?" I counter. I can go in my usual 10 AM, and stay until, oh, maybe

noon.

"How about 10 to 2?" She grins again. "Wilson hasn't bought you lunch in a

while."

"Ha! Trying to appeal to my insatiable appetite and my cheap nature."

"Greg, you have to go back sometime."

"OK. OK." I do an exaggerated eyeroll. Too bad she can't see it.

Why does she have such a way of convincing me to do things I don't want to do,

and of letting her do what she wants to?

There was nothing interesting about Doris Schultz's case on first glance, other

than the fact that she was Ruth's mother.

"She has a doctor," I told Allie when she said she was interested in the case.

"There's no reason for you to get involved." I knew this was a losing battle.

If she didn't convince me that she should do this, she'd bring in the big gun.

Gretchen. But I could still put up a good fight. "I'm sure she's had all the

usual tests and treatments for MS."

"Collins is supposed to be a good internist, but he's not an expert in

autoimmune diseases," she argued.

And of course she was. Why did I have a premonition, even then, that it wouldn't

end with an Allison Cameron consult? "You're six-months pregnant with a full

caseload of patients of your own. Just tell the Schultz's to ask Collins to

give them a referral to a doctor with a private practice."

"I can't do that."

And I knew she couldn't. I never understood this

need for friends, because with friends came the friends' problems and the

friends' families and sooner or later, someone was sick, someone needed her.

Her inexhaustible capacity to care about people was still a mystery to me. But

it was also one of the things I loved about her.

"They still haven't proven that MS is entirely an autoimmune disease. There's

a neurological component too, you know," I told her.

"You're right!" she said. "I should consult with Foreman, too."

"Whoa! It's not your case!" But I couldn't stop her. I'd probably have to be

careful not to get drawn into this myself.

"Just because you don't like Ruth..."

"Who says I don't?" The minute the words were out of my mouth, I knew my mistake

and I couldn't take them back. So, how could I use this to my advantage? "I

don't know her as well as Emily or Audra, or even Elizabeth, but she's our

daughter's friend. Maybe if she were the one who was sick..."

"But her mother's illness is keeping her from enjoying some of the things kids

her age should be doing," Allie reasoned.

I threw up my hands in mock defeat. "Fine! Just leave me out of it."

"I have no intention of involving you." She smiled. The look in her

eyes that told me I was in trouble.