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 and Dr. Hensen.
I know this is going a little slow, and I appreciate you all for sticking with me, I promise it'll pick up soon and I can also promise that Gordo will make an appearance. So, hold on…it'll be worth it. I hope…
As always, I would love to hear what anybody and everybody thinks so far, so click the review button for me!
Without further adieu…on to Chapter Six…
A week and a half later, Lizzie was still at home. Her mother had been diagnosed with chronic kidney failure, which was both a relief and a burden. She had begun dialysis treatments and had been placed on a waiting list for a transplant kidney. She had been released from the hospital a week ago, but had to spend twelve hours a week at the hospital, hooked up to a dialysis machine. The family was taking turns going with Jo to the hospital and waiting with her through the treatments; Sam had taken her the first day, Matt a few days after and Lizzie was scheduled to go with her mother today and was looking to it was a sense of dread.
Lizzie was also going crazy at home. It was difficult to find enough to do to fill the hours and not spend all her time worrying. Her father was obviously working and Matt had his job at Pete's Pizza to keep him away from home. And now that her mother was home, it made things more difficult. She spent a lot of time in bed and depended on Lizzie to take care of the house. Lizzie also put herself in charge of her mom's medication, making sure she took the right pills at the right time and didn't sleep through and skip a dose. She also monitored her mother's diet, something Dr. Hensen said would help slow the progression of kidney failure. Despite those responsibilities, Lizzie tried to spend as little time in her mother's room as possible; whenever she was in there, she felt like crying. Lizzie couldn't look at her mom anymore without seeing her hooked up to wires and machines.
So Lizzie began spending any spare moments she wasn't helping or taking care of her mother locked in her room, writing emails, reading, and working on her med school applications, doing anything she could do pass the hours. Most of her time was spent writing emails to Gordo, Brenna and Miranda and she spent a good amount of time reading books and information about lupus and kidney failure. And Lizzie noticed that she wasn't spending as much time on her med school applications as she had back in Colorado. She told herself that it was because she had other things to worry about or it was because Brenna wasn't here to offer encouragement. But in the back of her mind Lizzie had a sinking feeling that wasn't why she was letting her applications slide. She was scared.
Her reaction to her mother being in the hospital terrified her. For a year and a half, Lizzie was sure she would make a good doctor, because she liked to help people. She worked hard in her increasingly difficult classes, spending hours upon hours to make sure she understood all she could about each topic. And now that she was coming face to face with exactly what she had been learning about, she could barely function. How on earth could she ever be a doctor if she constantly got nauseous?
Lizzie drove her mother to the hospital and helped get her situated for her next treatment. A nurse they now knew as Becky helped Jo into a chair and placed Jo's arms on the padded table in front of her. Becky inserted two needles into Jo's arm; the needles fed into a tube that connected a major vein and artery and had been surgically placed before Jo's first dialysis treatment. The needles were connected to two tubes which fed into the dialysis machine.
Lizzie stood in one corner of the room, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and her mother must have noticed.
"Lizzie, why don't go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat; you look a little pale." Her mother told her. Lizzie nodded, relieved to be given an excuse to leave the room.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" she double checked with her mom.
"Sure, sweetie. I've been through this before. And Becky will be just down the hall if I need anything." Her mother reassured her.
Lizzie nodded again and left the room. She followed the hallway to the elevator, took it down three floors and found the cafeteria. Aside from a few tables of doctors and other medical staff on their breaks, the room was empty. Lizzie bought herself a cup of coffee and sat down at a table on the far side of the room. Setting her bag on the table, she began to pull her college application materials out of it. Lizzie knew her mothers dialysis treatment would be about three hours long, so Lizzie had come prepared. Whether she actually got any work done or not would be another story.
Lizzie knew she should be working hard on her applications. Brenna had called two nights ago to tell Lizzie that their MCAT scores had arrived and she had put Lizzie's in the mail to her. Now Lizzie was partially dreading receiving her scores. Brenna had done well, but Lizzie had several nagging doubts about her test.
"Working hard?" A voice from behind her startled Lizzie out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Dr. Hensen standing next to the table, holding a food tray.
"Not really." Lizzie replied sheepishly. "I'm trying to work on my med school applications, but I can't seem to get very far."
"I see," replied Dr. Hensen. She pulled out the chair across from Lizzie, asking, "May I?" Lizzie nodded and she sat down, placing her tray in front of her.
"Are you having trouble with the essays?" she asked, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite.
"Not really." Lizzie had written a couple already and she hadn't felt like she'd had too much trouble writing them.
"That's good." Dr. Hensen replied. "I knew a lot of pre-med students who were fabulous scientists, but if you asked them to write a paper or a speech, they had no idea where to start." She took another bite of sandwich and chewed for a moment. "Where are you thinking of applying?" She asked after swallowing.
"I've got several places in mind." Lizzie responded. "I've got a few long shots and then some schools that I have more of a chance of getting into. But my first choice is probably Stanford."
Dr. Hensen grinned. "An excellent school." She told Lizzie. "That's where I went to medical school. It's incredibly tough, but then, most med schools are."
Lizzie nodded. "I'm also gonna apply to Columbia, the University of Washington, Oregon Health and Science University, and the med schools at UCLA and USC, because they're close to home. It would be nice to be near my mom."
"I know she would like that." Dr. Hensen smiled. "But I also know she wouldn't want you to stay here just because of her if you really wanted to be somewhere else."
Tears suddenly came to Lizzie's eyes and she blinked them back, nodding. Dr. Hensen obviously noticed and set down her sandwich.
"But essays and being close to home aren't the only things that are bothering you right now." It was more of a question than a statement and Lizzie nodded again. She took a deep breath, still holding back tears.
"It's just…since I decided I wanted to be a doctor, I thought I'd be a good one. I mean, sometimes the technical stuff is over my head, but I always want to help people and make sure they're okay. But when I came home and saw my mom in the hospital and I couldn't do anything…I just mentally froze. I know enough to be able to help her more than I do. But I just can't do it. It's so painful to see her like this. So now I can't help but think what's going to happen when I have to face patients? Not just my mom, but real people with real, serious medical problems. What happens if I freeze then?" Lizzie heard her voice rise and all her tears finally spilled over.
Dr. Hensen smiled sympathetically and handed Lizzie a paper napkin to wipe her tears. "I do know a couple things that may make this easier for you." She said. Lizzie wiped her eyes and stared at the doctor sitting across from her. She wasn't sure why she spilled all she had been feeling to this doctor she barely knew when she hadn't mentioned any of this to her family, Brenna or even Gordo.
Maybe it was because she seemed so young. She looked even younger than her thirty-some years today, with her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her caring smile and earnest expression added to the illusion. She reminded Lizzie of some of the graduate students she worked in the lab with. Smart, confident, straightforward, but never making you feel dumb or insignificant, treating you as a peer. She treated her patients that way as well. Lizzie liked the idea of having patients know as much about what was wrong with them as they could. To Lizzie, that meant she trusted her patients as intelligent, caring people. And while Lizzie knew that not all people could be trusted with that responsibility, Lizzie was impressed that she tried.
"One," Dr. Hensen continued, "is that nearly every med student or doctor feels this way at least once. It's much more difficult to deal with a medical condition when you're emotionally attached. That's why doctors very rarely treat their own family, especially for serious treatments like surgeries. It's much easier to treat someone you're not emotionally attached to."
Lizzie nodded, feeling slightly better. "What else?"
"And two, you can take all the fear and panic you feel and use it to help you."
Lizzie stared at the doctor blankly, not understanding.
"You can use it as motivation." Dr. Hensen tried to explain. "Here's an example. My mom was diagnosed with lupus when I was two. She quickly began having more and more health problems. By the time I was ten, she'd been diagnosed with osteoarthritis, hypothyroidism, a heart murmur, and a severe allergy to yellow dye, which was in some of the pills she had been taking. While none of those are directly hereditary, my chances of getting one of those was increased since my mom had them. That terrified me. I decided right then and there that I was going to be a doctor and stop all that terrible stuff from happening to people. So while I was going through all my years of school, if I ever got discouraged or felt like slacking off, I'd remember exactly what I was aiming for and that helped keep me motivated."
Lizzie nodded, understanding.
"Well, Lizzie, I've got some work to do, but if you even need to talk again, feel free to stop by my office or leave a message with one of the receptionists, okay?"
Lizzie nodded again, her mind racing. Dr. Hensen certainly had given her a lot to think about.