Chapter 9 (Revised)   Simon Jones is Eve Jones. But she didn't know.

 
 
Previously:

Eve Jones has declared her love for Claire, as Eve.

Now the story continues.

 
 
Eve Chapter 9
 

I had a restless night and was not on good form on Wednesday morning. I could feel the stress getting to me. Things were heading out of control.

I had to have a CT scan this morning and I couldn't have any breakfast. Or coffee.

No point going down to the kitchen then. I went to the bathroom and stripped. After putting on the shower cap I looked down, I was fine. I'd felt nothing either when I'd had a pee either. The antibiotics had done their trick.

After my shower I wrapped a towel around me, like mum had told me yesterday. I gave my head a wipe with a flannel, avoiding the dressing.

I walked back to my room. Mum was laying a skirt, chemise and a plain top on my bed.

"Mum, I'm not sore anymore. Please can I wear some underwear?"

"Are you fibbing?"

"No."

"OK, Dr Kumar did give me a little latitude but you can't wear trousers. And if there's any sign of discomfort they will have to come off."

"I understand."

I went to me drawers to get a pair of my briefs but mum stopped me and told me to wait. She went to her room and came back with a pair of her knickers.

"No!"

"Eve Jones. You have much to learn. These are a light polycotton mix and will keep things smooth under that skirt. Your briefs would create an obvious outline with those heavy seams. A sign of VPL. Very noticeable to other women."

"VPL?"

"Visible panty line."

"Visible, what? Oh never mind."

I put on the knickers and finished dressing. This time I apparently didn't need a slip, I didn't ask why.

I put on some lipstick, eye shadow and covered the fading bruise on my forehead while mum dressed herself. She inspected my efforts and had me redo my lipstick.

I was downstairs ready by eight thirty. Mum was finishing her coffee. She was allowed one and I wasn't. Mum had found a small shoulder bag and handed it to me.

"What's this for, I didn't need one on Monday?"

"We didn't have much time on Monday and I forgot. You don't have any pockets right? Where are you to put your mobile, keys, tissues, hairbrush and a few other bits no girl should be wihout?"

Once again I took it and put it over my shoulder like I'd seen her do it. There was no ambulance this time and mum drove. She cursed the carpark prices.

"It's not like I have a choice of parking elsewhere."

Ten minutes later we were in the Diagnostic Imaging waiting area. We'd been handed a form when we checked in and mum was reading it before she reached into her bag for a pen.

"I don't have a pen on me Eve, there's one in the side of your bag dear, can you get it for me?"

I had a look in the side pocket of my bag and found the biro.

"This is authorisation for the CT scan. It's also a questionnaire on your medical history. Since you're under 18 I have to sign it. I had to do the same when you were first admitted."

A nurse asked us to go to a treatment room. She checked the form and noted my vitals, she then fitted me with a canula; I wasn't expecting that. She first took three phials of blood and then produced a syringe containing a coloured liquid.

"This is a dye that helps us see the images more clearly. You shouldn't get a reaction but if you do tell someone straight away."

Without a further word, she injected it into the canula my hand felt cold for a few seconds. With that we were asked to wait outside the CT and MRI suite for 15 minutes before being taken in.

I'd been here before apparently, but couldn't remember. The technician managed the scan in one quick pass.

We now had to go to the main Out Patients waiting room it would at least another forty-five minutes before the appointment with Mr Bishop. Why do waiting rooms rarely have clocks on the walls?

I needed the toilet and mentioned this quietly to mum.

"I'll come with you, don't forget your bag. You'll need it."

I walked hesitantly with her to the alien world of a ladies loo. It wasn't too strange, in the end, and after I exited a stall mum was waiting at one of the sinks.

"Don't forget to tidy your make-up dear."

I reached into the depths of my bag and the first thing I found was a pair of knickers. Under those was some lipstick, mascara, eye shadow and the compact. Another woman came in so I kept my mouth shut and copied mum as she tidied up her face, although I didn't think it was necessary. We were being called as we walked back into the waiting area.

"Good morning Eve, Mrs Jones. I have reviewed the CT images and I think we have a clearer idea what is going on with your head. Firstly, the CT shows your bones have melded well. Secondly, when we took a biopsy of the tumour it was found to be benign. Thankfully it was also rather small but we had to take an area around the tumour to be certain."

"So am I clear?"

"We took some biopsies of the surrounding tissue and they came back clear, so yes, as far as we can tell at this stage."

"So will Eve need Chemo?"

"Not at this stage but we will keep her under review for three years."

"What can you tell us about the tumour?" Asked mum.

"The tumour was pressing on several glands and blood vessels in the back of your head, restricting blood supply. We had to remove a part of the pituitary gland as that area had been necrotised."

"Necrotised?"

"Died, usually because of lack of blood supply."

"What does that mean?" asked mum.

"In the short term, not alot. Eve's recovery from the surgery itself will continue and the pituatary might recover."

"And if it doesn't?"

"That's a good question and I'm not qualified to give you an expert answer but a hormone imbalance could be the result of damage to the pituitary gland. If that is the case there could be some temporary side effects."

"Like what" I asked.

"As I said this is not my area of expertise, but another member of my team will liaise with your GP, who will arrange monitoring. I'll write to your GP. Hop onto the couch for me."

Mum and I both noticed the way the surgeon had tried to skip the question. It would have to be brought up again but now was not the right time. A nurse had been hovering at the back of the room and walked across then took the dressing off and cleaned the wound area.

"Very good. You are coming along nicely. We'll consider taking the stitches out next Wednesday. Nurse?"

My wound was dressed again and I replaced my wig. We were shown out of the room, the consultation was over.

Mum and I were walking through the hospital grounds when Dr Fox spotted us.

"Good morning Eve. Don't forget our appointment tomorrow."

With that she walked off and we were left to find our car in the hospital carpark.

Back at home we'd taken off our shoes and mum made me a coffee. We had an early lunch, I was hungry! The day's post was uninteresting apart from a letter from the HSE. Apparently there was insufficient grounds to proceed with the investigation surrounding the accident at the school and the file had been closed.

The Tesco van arrived at midday. It was the same driver as a few days earlier.

Good morning Miss. If you don't mind me saying you look wonderful today, you didn't look too well last time."

I know he meant well but the comment was more than a little unprofessional. He saw that I wasn't overjoyed and quietly finished bringing the few bags into the kitchen. Mum signed his pad and he left without another word, suitably chastised. Mum and I collapsed in a fit of giggles when we heard the van door slam shut.

"Eve, you're learning. Good girl."

I had worked on my short story the night before and had it finished by the time my tutor, Miss Bates, arrived. She asked me to copy the short story and yesterday's two reports to a second memory stick that she pulled out of her bag.

Today's assignment was to look at the long term implications of the Irish potato famine, right up to the current day. She wanted 2500 words by tomorrow. Then she left.

I'd studied some Irish history at GCSE level so I knew the basics but that simple request had me running for my books, a look at Wikipedia and finally some papers from University College Dublin.

I'd managed 2000 words by dinner time. The delivery had included two salmon steaks so we enjoyed those with a simple salad and new potatoes. No butter on the spuds. I also wanted a dessert and mum offered a simple sorbet.

"How about some ice-cream and chocolate sauce?"

"Eve, that lovely slim figure you had when we came back from holiday has wasted a little. A little diet and some exercise will help get you back into shape. We'll have to get you some sweats and get you back on your bike soon."

Mum has a sharp eye for this sort of thing and I guess she'd been looking at the scales when I was weighed at the hospital this morning.

I went back up to my PC after dinner to deal with my coursework, mum had let me off the washing up. By nine I had it finished. I then checked my emails, once again there was one from [email protected] .

"Didn't you look nice at the hospital today? I'm still waiting for your show on Youtube."

I printed it off and took it to mum. She folded it into her bag and told me to print a second copy.

I got ready for bed and cleaned the make-up off my face. Mum had left a clean pair of knickers on my bed. Without thinking I had put them on as well as a shorter nightie.

I laid on my bed and tried to fall asleep but couldn't. I didn't want to wake mum so didn't put the radio on, my headphones were somewhere in my room but I couldn't go searching in the dark. As for putting on the light, I wouldn't. So I just laid there.

The problem was everything that had happened so far. The list of issues was getting longer by the day. Who was I now? Did Simon exist any more? Did Claire really love me, and was it Eve or Simon she loved?

First I was an ordinary boy, then I was accidentaly recorded as transgendered, the whole school reckons I'm really female and I've found out my hormones are all messed up, maybe because of that tumour. Why do some hate me? Do I hate myself?

I finally fell asleep but have no idea when.