He wasn’t trying to keep me from seeing a scar.
He was trying to hide his fear of what that scar might mean.
But there was still one thing I needed to know.
“Conor, why did you put a cast over the surgical area in the first place?”
He looked at me through reddened eyes.
“I didn’t.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“The cast was for the fracture. But after the surgery, I was given instructions about caring for the wound and attending follow-up appointments. I was supposed to tell the doctors about the operation before they treated the fracture.”
He paused.
“I didn’t want anyone examining the area too closely. I kept the padding positioned so the
scar stayed covered, and I avoided letting you see it because I knew you’d ask questions.”
I shook my head slowly.
“You took a real injury and turned it into a wall between us.”
He nodded.
“I did.”
Before I could respond, the doctor returned.
He explained that the cast damage would need to be addressed and that Conor’s previous surgery made a coordinated assessment especially important. He recommended contacting the specialist who had performed the operation and arranging a prompt review of the earlier test results.
He also made it clear that the existing information was not enough to establish a final diagnosis.
For the first time that evening, I felt a small measure of relief.
There were still unanswered questions, but at least we finally had a path forward.
I asked whether I could accompany Conor to the specialist appointment.
The doctor said that would be entirely appropriate,
provided Conor agreed.
I turned toward my husband.
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“Yes. I want you there.”
Those words meant more to me than he could possibly understand.
We left the hospital later that evening with instructions for follow-up care and arrangements to have the damaged cast addressed properly.
The drive home was quiet.
When we reached the house, Conor sat on the couch while I made tea. For years, that had been our routine whenever he felt unwell.
But this time, I didn’t make his tea because he demanded it.
I made it because I wanted to.
I sat beside him and placed the cup on the table.
“There’s something else you need to understand,” I said.
He turned toward me.
