my disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire or any other LM characters. I don't own any of the schools, websites, books, etc. that may be mentioned in this story. I don't even really own the idea for this story…got that from a paragraph in a Madeleine L'Engle book…I only own Brenna.
Mwahahahaha!!! I'm in a fabulously good mood today! I quit my job…(YAY!, no more pizza!) and my kitchen manager made me a giant cookie with ice cream and whipped cream…yummy… And I would also like to damn my computer for being the biggest p.o.s. ever and the video card for overheating. Thanks…you made my day. Ok, moving on.
Just a few notes this time…again, some people may find parts of this chapter boring or over their heads…that's fine. I'm just trying to set everything up and give some background info…plus, I'm the world's biggest science geek, and I love this stuff! And I know I said this chapter would take a while, but since I quit my job today, I had some free time to write. I'm going to try and keep the story moving along pretty quickly, since when school starts in two weeks, I'm going to have to cut my writing time down quite a bit. And(!), I had another idea for a Lizzie story…so I may start working on that, or I may wait until this one is finished…it depends on my how other fics go… TheRealXenocide – thanks for the compliment…I figure if I'm going to be spending my life doing research, I'd better know how to use it!
And thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far…keep reviewing!!!…if you like it, even if you hate it! And if you don't care either way, tell me your favorite cookie…mine's butterscotch chip…mmm…
Ok, enough notes. Without further adieu…on to Chapter Four!
Two days later, Lizzie was on a plane home to Los Angeles. Or, she would be headed to Los Angeles once she stopped in Houston for a layover. Lizzie couldn't understand why the cheapest flight from Denver to L.A. went through Houston, but she wasn't in a position to argue. As much as she wanted to get home, money was a big concern right now; her top priority was saving for med school.
Leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, Lizzie recalled the last 48 hours.
She wasn't sure how long she sat on the couch, head in her hands, trying to block out the world. When she came to, she called the first person who came to mind; Gordo. She knew the call was overseas and very expensive and Brenna would probably kill her when she got the phone bill, but she didn't care. She needed to talk to him. She dialed the digits and listened as it rang on the other end.
"C'mon Gordo…" she muttered impatiently as it rang.
After the fourth rang, someone picked up.
"'lo?" a voice mumbled.
"Gordo?" Lizzie asked, unsure if she had dialed the right number.
"Lizzie?" came Gordo's weary voice. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Oh God…" Lizzie had forgotten about the time difference. It was now 4:30 in the morning in Australia! "Gordo, I'm so sorry…It's just– I just– and…" Lizzie fought for control as a sob rose in her throat.
"Lizzie, calm down! Take a few breaths." Gordo now sounded fully awake and very worried. "Now tell me what happened."
Lizzie took several breaths and tried to control herself. "My mom's in the hospital. Matt said it's the lupus."
"Do you know what happened?" Gordo asked gently.
"Didn't you just hear me." Lizzie cried, her voice wavering. "It's her lupus!"
"Lizzie, calm down." Gordo said again. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but can't lupus cause a lot of different things? Do you know exactly why your mom is in the hospital?"
"No, Matt said they didn't know yet. They won't know until they run some tests."
"So there's a pretty good chance that it's not anything serious, right? I mean, she hasn't had any major problems so far…other than actually having the disease.
Lizzie sighed. "I suppose…I just keep remembering that one statistic… 'for about 2% - 3% of people, the disease is fatal, despite all efforts.' I'm so scared that's gonna be her."
Lizzie returned to the present as a "ding" indicated that the seatbelt sign had been turned back on.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a flight attendant spoke over the intercom, "we are now beginning our final descent into Houston. We ask that you return your seatbacks and tray tables to their upright and locked position and make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened. Thank you."
Minutes later, the plane landed and parked at the gate at the Houston airport. Backpack in hand, Lizzie exited the airplane and searched for the gate for her next flight. After finding it, she checked in. Because her flight from Denver had taken off late, she only had half an hour to wait before the flight to L.A. left. She bought a magazine and a soda from a small newsstand and wandered around a bit, sipping her soda, waiting for her flight to be called.
After boarding the plane, Lizzie flipped through her magazine aimlessly, and tossed it aside. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book on lupus she had bought last December when her mother was diagnosed with SLE. She had started reading it, but had to put it aside when school started again.
Several hours later, Lizzie had learned quite a bit more about the disease. There is no cure for SLE, and no one is sure what causes it. Some researches believe it may be caused by a number of factors, including genetic markers and possible environmental factors, such as viruses. While there is no cure, medication can be used to treat the symptoms. Antimalarials, drugs originally used to fight malaria, can help improve skin rashes, joints, and fatigue. Anti-inflammatory drugs can be used for joint stiffness, swelling and pain and immunosuppressants are used to contain the direct effects of the infected individual's immune system. A group of drugs called corticosteroids, the most often prescribed medications for lupus, also work as anti-inflammatories and in controlling the immune system. As Lizzie already knew, there were more serious side effects, including anemia and kidney problems. Lizzie wished Matt had told her if her mother had any symptoms. She hated no knowing what was wrong.
By this time the plane was descending into LAX and Lizzie was home. She was one of the first ones off the plane and practically sprinted to the baggage claim, where she found her father and brother waiting for her. After long hugs from each of them, Matt grabbed her suitcase and the three of them headed out into the warm late afternoon sun, on the way to the car.
"As of this morning, they're still waiting on some tests," Lizzie's father told her, "but I think they've been able to narrow it down to a few things. Of course, I don't really understand much of it, so I could be wrong."
Lizzie nodded. There was a tense silence for the rest of the ride to the airport; even Matt seemed at a loss for words.
They pulled into a parking space at the hospital and walked in through the front entrance. Lizzie had only been to this hospital a few times; when she was born, of course, but she was too little to remember. She had also been here when Matt was born, and remembered very little of that. Actually, the only thing she remembered was that the hospital cafeteria had lime Jell-o. And the only other time was in second grade when she fell off her bike and broke her arm. And that time she had been in the emergency room; walking through the lobby of the hospital, it seemed like a completely different world to her.
Lizzie, Matt and their dad got on the elevator and took it to the fourth floor, where they got off. Lizzie's dad led them down a long hallway and then through a door on their left into another hallway. Lizzie tried to keep her eyes in front of her. The hallways smelled of antiseptics and chemicals and Lizzie fought through a bout of nausea. Though she volunteered in a hospital, she only worked as a receptionist on the ground floor; she never had to venture further than that.
Lizzie's dad stopped at a closed door, knocked softly and stuck his head in. Lizzie heard whispers and her father opened the door wider so she and Matt could walk through. Stepping into the room, the nausea returned as Lizzie stared in horror.
Her mother looked so small and frail in the hospital bed. She was hooked up to an I.V. unit and several other machines with wires. Her face was pail and her eyelids sagged. She looked exhausted as she fought to smile at her children. Tears welled up in Lizzie's eyes as her mother tried to wave. Suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore and ran from the room, tears pouring down her cheeks.