Following the doctor outside, I felt the dread growing inside me as the serious look on his face remained.
He started with a deep sigh."Mr Newman, thank you for coming in today. I'm not sure when I'll be able to see your parents, with their work schedule, so I was hoping you might pass on a message—if it wouldn't be too much to ask."
Seeing the look on my face—no doubt desperate and guilty—he hurriedly added,"I apologise, that wasn't the best way to phrase that. I know your whole family is working hard to support Miss Newman as best you can. I would call your parents, but… I feel this would be better face-to-face."
Swallowing hard, I nodded while trying to force down the lump in my throat."Thank you, Dr Leich. I appreciate that consideration for my family. Is… is something wrong with my sister?"
He nodded solemnly."Unfortunately, yes. Miss Newman has an incredibly rare disease—Gate Rejection Disease—and can't tolerate the aftereffects of the gates. As you know, there are two levels to this illness. Type 1, which makes up 99% of all cases, isn't as severe and can be mitigated with proper treatment, eventually allowing for a normal life.
"We initially thought she had type 1, but with recent tests… it appears her actual type 2 diagnosis is beginning to manifest. Her test results, which seemed to be stabilising, have dropped significantly. Type 2 has more severe side effects and… is terminal."
I felt the blood drain from my face. A cold wave swept through my body. I could only bring a hand to my mouth to stifle the guttural pain trying to escape at the word terminal.
Trying to breathe through my nose, to bring myself under control, I struggled to form a coherent sentence."Could it just be a cold or flu that caused her test results to drop so fast? Or… could the results be wrong?"
He shook his head."I'm sorry, but no. She definitely has type 2 Gate Rejection Disease. If it were just one drop, perhaps… but she's had three over the past 48 hours. That's one of the signs of it starting to manifest aggressively. We've put her on some special medicine, which is stabilising her condition for the time being."
Taking deep breaths to focus on what he was saying, I listened as he continued.
"There are options we can explore, which we'll need to discuss in person. I'll schedule a time for that. This may be hard to hear—one option is pain management while the disease progresses. While we have limited knowledge of type 2, the typical life expectancy after manifestation is eight to ten months."
I began to shake as I tried to keep my composure. Everything felt like it was speeding up, and I didn't have enough time to absorb it all. I grasped onto the one strand of hope."You said there are options—what are the others?"
Nodding, he went on."Though the disease is rare, and type 2 even more so, there are actually two clinical trials underway. The first focuses on a part of type 2 where Miss Newman is, unfortunately, outside the required parameters. The second one, however, may be viable.
"It aims not only to slow the progression but to stop it permanently by halting the body's reaction to gate energy. It's still early in the trial phase, but there's even been some evidence of reversing the damage."
A spark ignited in my chest at the thought. A light at the end of the tunnel. But the doctor's face remained serious and grim.
Clinging to that spark, I said, "That trial sounds perfect. How do we get Melly into it?"
Still grim, he replied,"I've already contacted them. They do have places available and aren't planning to close applications for a few more months. The issue is… it's not here. It's in New Zealand. They're running the trial in collaboration with their own version of the Association and their espers and guides."
I realised now why his expression hadn't changed. All the benefits I got from working at the Association only applied within this country.
The doctor nodded. "I'm sure you've realised—your current coverage… doesn't include international medical treatment."
Barely able to swallow past the knot in my throat, I managed, "Would you… would you know an estimate?"
He looked down."For a clinical trial like this, it's actually quite expensive. Around a hundred thousand dollars—"
"In total?" I interrupted.
He shook his head."Per month. That would include every aspect of the trial. Depending on how she responds… it could be several months."
In shock, I could only whisper, "A hundred thousand…"
The tears I thought had dried up over the past few days returned, welling in my eyes.
Looking back at the doctor, I said quietly,"Thank you so much. I'll pass this on to my parents. What would we need to do to organise Melly's entry into the trial?"
He looked at me with sympathy. Our family's financial situation was well known. We were only just starting to pull ourselves out, now that I was working at the Association. But the bills from before still lingered. We'd only just begun to chip away at the principal. It was still a mountain—more than double that monthly cost—and I couldn't imagine anyone being willing to lend us more with our credit rating so low.
The light at the end of the tunnel was dimmer now. But we had no choice—we had to keep going until Melly got better.
Thanking the doctor again, he gave me a reassuring pat on the arm and a tight, sympathetic smile.
I went to check on Melly again, but she was still sleeping. Seeing her after what the doctor had said changed everything. I noticed more hollows in her face, as though she'd lost weight recently. The dark bags under her eyes, the thin, pasty skin on her hands, the veins stark beneath it.
This was my baby sister. I could never have believed something like this could happen to our family. No one expects a catastrophe until it arrives. When she first got sick, it felt like someone had torn out a part of our hearts.
I wrote her a note on a Post-it, like I always did, and left it on the medical headboard:
I'll be back tomorrow. Luv the best brother xxx
With that, I grabbed my bag and headed out of the hospital in the direction of where my parents were staying. It was a short ten-minute walk—they'd chosen to be as close to the hospital as possible.
Calling to see if they were home, I saw the flat was still empty. They must still be at work.
We'd had to downsize from our old house to this one-bedroom apartment. Piles of our belongings were still packed to the ceiling. We'd kept them, hoping that one day, once all of this was behind us, we could return to a normal life.
Seeing the place a little messy—understandably so, with both Mum and Dad working two jobs—I rolled up my sleeves and began to clean. It was one of my best skills, really. Making everything spotless.
About half an hour later, the door opened and they came in. I rushed over to greet them with big hugs as they fussed over me.
Mum, true to form, started to worry "You look so skinny, Nathan! Are they making you work too hard? You won't last if you're not eating properly!"
Smiling, I replied, "Nothing compares to your food, Ma."
Then Dad stepped forward and cupped my face in his hands."You look tired. Are they working you too hard? You need proper rest if they expect you to give your best."
Looking into his tired face, I could tell he hadn't been sleeping well—likely still taking on side jobs whenever he could. He'd always push himself for our sake. They both would.
Smiling back, I said, "I swear, I've been eating and sleeping plenty. I went to the hospital today. I need you both to sit down."
Knowing I couldn't hold this information in any longer, I led them to the couch and sat them down.
"When I was at the hospital… the doctor gave me an update. And it's not good."