But the scar wasn’t the only thing that caught my attention.
There was another area of discoloration near his ankle, and the doctor was studying it carefully.
“Mrs. Conor,” the doctor began, before correcting himself with a small smile, “Mrs. Hayes, your husband has told me some of his medical history. However, there are a few details we need to clarify.”
I turned toward my husband.
“What medical history?”
Conor closed his eyes.
The doctor looked between us, clearly sensing that there was more to the situation than a damaged cast.
“I’ll give you both a moment,” he said. “I need to review his earlier
records before we decide on the next steps.”
Once the doctor left, I pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Now,” I said quietly, “tell me the truth.”
Conor stared at his hands.
Then he said something I never expected.
“The accident at work wasn’t the first time I injured that leg.”
I felt a chill move through me.
“What do you mean?”
He took a long breath.
“Three months ago, I started having severe pain in my ankle. It came and went at first. Some days I could walk normally. Other days, I could barely put weight on it.”
“Three months?”
My voice cracked.
“You’ve been in pain for three months, and you never told me?”
“I didn’t want you worrying.”
“Don’t use that excuse with me.”
He flinched.
I continued before he could interrupt.
“You know what I find unbelievable? You complain when you have a headache. You call
me when you’re at the pharmacy because you can’t remember which brand of medicine the doctor recommended. But you supposedly suffered for three months without saying a word?”
He rubbed his face.
“Because it wasn’t just pain, Cynthia.”
He looked at me, and something in his expression changed.
It was no longer embarrassment.
It was shame.
“I found a lump.”
For several seconds, I didn’t understand what he meant.
“A lump where?”
“Near my ankle. Deep beneath the skin.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did the doctor say?”
Conor looked away.
“That it needed investigating.”
I gripped the edge of the chair.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was afraid.”
The anger inside me faltered.
“Afraid of what?”
He stared at the floor.
“Cancer.”
The word seemed to drain all the air from the room.
