Her Name Is Rose by Christine Breen Read Free Book Online

her.
    â€œGood evening, pet,” she said, raising her eyebrows and looking at the blue Wellies still on Iris’s feet. “A little self-medicating?”
    â€œNever hurt anyone,” Iris said somewhat sheepishly, sitting up and feeling at once a sharp ache at the base of her neck, under her left shoulder, and yes, there, dead center of her spine. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œGot a missed call from you earlier. You sounded funny, so I thought I’d pop over.”
    â€œOh, right. Sorry. I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”
    â€œTen.” Tess picked up the bottle on the floor. “Californian. Yum.” She smiled. “But mind yourself. Okay?”
    â€œYes, Dr. Tess, Medicine Woman.”
    â€œIris?”
    â€œOkay. Yes. I hear you.” Iris kicked off her boots and rose crookedly from the couch. Her head was sore. The blue of the summer night sky was finally yielding to darkness.
    â€œTea, I think, before you tell me exactly what the doctor said.”
    In the kitchen, Tess switched on the light and Iris put the kettle on. “Poppies are fab,” Tess said, looking at them and, without lifting her eyes: “So the doctor said they found—”
    â€œA distortion.” Iris looked at her for a long moment. “What is … an ‘architectural distortion’?”
    Tess came around the counter toward her. “I know it sounds very clinical and not very encouraging but—”
    â€œNo, it really doesn’t.”
    â€œâ€”I looked it up.” Tess smiled, hesitantly at first, then laid her arm around Iris’s shoulders in a robust kind of way. “It’s just common medicalese, pet. An abnormal area of density. It shows up as shadows or white spots on the mammogram.” She’d brought her PC with her and now had it opened on the counter.
    â€œShadows or white spots?”
    â€œApparently. Fatty breast tissue can look similar to a lump.”
    â€œFatty!”
    â€œIris, seriously, that’s it. An architectural distortion—”
    â€œCan we stop calling it that!” Iris opened the cupboard and took out aspirin.
    â€œDid you drink the whole bottle?”
    Iris didn’t replied. She had drunk more than she’d meant to. Her back was to Tess for a few moments. “Look, I got this.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and showed Tess the letter from the Breast Clinic. “It came today.”
    Tess took the letter. “They don’t waste any time.” She read it. “That’s good, Iris.”
    â€œYeah?”
    Tess nodded. “Really. The sooner, the better. Right? Doesn’t mean bad news. Just … let’s get on top of this.” She paused a moment before continuing, “So … Iris … the distortion … it says here … just requires a bit of further exploration by ultrasound. It’s not unusual”—Tess lowered her voice and narrowed her wide eyes—“in older women.”
    Iris suddenly burst out laughing, startling her friend. “Oh, thank you! Now I’m fat and old. I wish Luke could hear this.”
    She brought the teapot and cups to the table and Tess read more: “An architectural distortion is an abnormal arrangement of tissue strands of the breast, often a radial or random pattern.” Tess looked up. “ But  … without any associated mass as the apparent cause.” She continued reading as Iris poured the tea. “There is no visible mass.” Tess read silently for a few moments.
    â€œAnd?”
    Tess held up her hand. “Here. Listen. The number of women in which the architectural distortion would actually represent invasive breast cancer is very low, perhaps five to seven percent. Clearly, most architectural distortions found on mammography are due to benign causes. There!” Tess sat back. “See?”
    For a few moments both women