I have worked out what to call the first book in the Azren Chronicles, which you can read here. Here is the title to the first book in the Azren Chronicles:
“The Trouble with Pies (And Why they Are Necessary)”
Sorry (not really) for leaving you on such a cliffhanger last time with this story.
This one will be a shorter one, but it sets things up for the story arc and for later.
On with the story!
Doctor Ashgrove hated doing this – going over to the distressed family, friends, and partners and telling them that their sister/brother/spouse/friend, etc., wasn’t going to make it. Or was incapacitated and was never going to recover. It broke his heart to see their hopes crushed, the look on their faces…
But it always, without fail, revealed interesting things about the family, friends, or partners – and, unfortunately, some were interesting in the wrong way. Sadly, some of them decided to have nothing to do with the patient/victim anymore and leave them in the hospital’s care, never coming back. The patient would sometimes recover, but how defeated they looked when their loved ones weren’t there…
Dr. Ashgrove looked at the people through the glass window. A young man had a dark, but disturbed look on his face. And he didn’t blame him – the patient, a young lady, was VERY LUCKY to have survived. He looked at the other people, the lady’s parents. The mother was gripping her husband’s hand, her knuckles white. The father looked like he was having a nightmare.
He opened the door and three pairs of eyes locked onto him. A whole range of emotions raged in them and he almost took a step back. He took a deep breath and said, “Mr and Mrs Stark?”
The parents and the young man all stood up. “Yes?” the father responded.
“Your daughter, Elizabeth, is in a serious condition, but stable. She’s going to be fine.” Well, sort of. The parents relaxed, but the young man (who must be the patient’s brother) was eyeing him, as if he didn’t believe that statement.
“But, she has a growing tumour in her brain. We’re not sure, but that might have been the cause – or at least, part of the cause – of her accident. According to the police, witnesses said that she suddenly panicked and seemed to be having trouble breathing and seemed to be in pain when she veered onto the road, and according to witnesses, she didn’t seem to be aware of her surroundings, which makes sense if she was in pain and unable to breathe,” Dr. Ashgrove added. Mrs Stark clutched onto her husband and the young man staggered back in horror. Mr Stark looked sick.
“How big is the tumour?” Mr Stark questioned, trying to keep his voice calm.
“It…it is was a Grade 2 brain tumour, which means that the tumour cells grow and spread slowly and are usually contained, but it seems to have escalated and is growing faster. It has become Grade 3.” He took a deep breath. “It’s covered the entire parietal lobe.”
“Hell,” Mrs Stark muttered, her face pale.
“What’s the parietal lobe?” the young man demanded.
“The parietal lobe processes sensory information regarding the location of parts of the body as well as interpreting visual information and processing language and mathematics.”
“Can you guys get rid of it? Like operate on her or something?” Mrs Stark enquired.
“Yes. But due to the extent, it has to be immediately.” Oh, damn, I hate having to do this. “There is something else. Her lungs have become clotted, so we have an air mask on her. It’s the only thing keeping her breathing. We’re going to be giving her anticoagulant injections to counter-act and cure the clotting. And,” he sighed, “Due to the car crash, nerves…the nerves in her arms and hands have been damaged. She has lost control and movements in her arms and hands. To put it bluntly, her arms are vegetables.”
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