My Md Anderson Novels & Stories

I had no interest in dissecting my failing marriage with Isabella—if she caught wind of the divorce before the papers were filed, she’d find a way to freeze the settlement. She didn't offer a rebuttal, and the remainder of the drive was a study in suffocating silence. The Manchester Andrology Centre was the pinnacle of elite shifter healthcare. The grounds were expansive—once you passed the security perimeter, it was another five-minute drive through manicured forest just to reach the glass-and-stone main building. There were no waiting rooms here, no plebeians, no delays when you carried the Blackwood name. The specialist saw me immediately, scrawling orders for a battery of invasive tests.

Wilson clicked on one of them, and the voice recording played. The doctor began speaking. "Ms. Cooper? We're calling from SMDA, The Solaria Marrow Donor Association…"

the MD said "yes the MD is disposed that is why I am here and by the way I am Micheal the AMD of Sheba company" Micheal said "yes sir I know that already" the MD said "since you have kwon me shall we go to the main reason I come" Micheal said

Doctor Zane said as he shook my hand. “The pleasure is mine, but no need for the formalities.” “Alright, this is Mr. Anderson. His father is the one you will be operating on,” Doctor Zane said. Matt stretched out his hand for a handshake but suddenly froze. “Meadow? You are Doctor Meadow Enrique?” he asked in disbelief, his hand still outstretched. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Anderson,” I said, shaking his hand briefly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.

Metastasized. My chest goes tight. I close the folder. My brain's already moving, calculating. "I'll send you to Dubai. MD Anderson has a satellite facility there–better protocols for late-stage pancreatic. Or Germany. They're doing immunotherapy trials that could buy you years, not months–" "Damian." "–I'll have my assistant book flights tonight. We can leave this week–" "Damian, stop." I look up. She's watching me with this expression I can't read. Sad, maybe. Or tired. Or both.

I leaned in and whispered to Madelaine. She took the reins from me and held them tight. “No matter what, don’t let go, okay?” I added. “What?” “No questions, Maddy. Just don’t let go, got it?” She nodded. “Yes, Doctor.” “Good girl,” I whispered into her ear and that’s where I started.

My phone rang. It was the hospital. “Sorry to bother you. This is Dr. Andrews from North General Hospital. Is this a good number to reach your wife, Ariana McKenna?” “Yes," I answered without thinking. "I'm her husband, Misha Carter." “Oh good,” the doctor sounded relieved. “She cancelled her follow up appointment today and I wanted to make sure I gave her the chance to ask me any questions she might have, especially after experiencing such a significant trauma.” “Significant trauma,” I balked. "She had a broken leg..."

Having her close, knowing I wasn’t alone, was the only thing keeping me from completely losing it. The door creaked open, and I turned, seeing Dr. Lewis step inside, holding a clipboard. “I spoke with your mother," he began, "and she informed me about your sudden illness and the nosebleeds. I'm very sorry you're going through this.” “We’re doing everything we can to figure out what's causing this and how best to manage it..” he continued. “As you probably know, Anderson Syndrome is a rare genetic condition, and it can be quite difficult to diagnose and treat.”

That's way too tiring for my poor feet to handle. To make one of my ninety-nine problems be solved, I went to look inside one doctor's office to know what day it is. Mmm, it's Doctor... Andrea Montgomery-Jordan's office. Let's see if she has any calendar or clock that could tell what day of the month is today.