‘Right…’ Dom looks understandably confused. ‘I may be behind the curve on this one, but is a concussion classified as a neurological disease?’

He looks to me to check if I am confused as well. I pretend there’s something causing me discomfort in my bed and start to overzealously rearrange my covers. I only need to stall long enough for Dr Salessi to confirm there’s been an error in the diagnosis.

‘You are not “behind the curve”,’ Dr Salessi clarifies. ‘We do not classify concussion as a neurological disease. I am not here to discuss Alex’s concussion.’

‘Ah, you must be the second opinion Alex asked for?’

‘I am indeed here to provide that. Alex was visited by my colleague, Dr Harlow, earlier this morning. Dr Harlow explained to Alex that the anomalies on her MRI scan were in fact what we call lesions – that is damage to the nerves in the brain. It is caused by an autoimmune condition called multiple sclerosis or MS.’

Dom’s face immediately drains of colour. ‘I’m sorry. Did you just say—’

‘It’s fine, Dom,’ I interrupt. ‘It’s a misdiagnosis. There’s no way I have MS. I mean, look at the way I live my life. If I was ill, do you think I’d manage all that?’

‘Alex, I know this is very difficult for you,’ says Dr Salessi. ‘But I have reviewed the scans, as well as Dr Harlow’s notes, and I very much support her diagnosis. I will of course perform the same neurological examination but the scan itself provides enough evidence of the disease. It also explains your fatigue, the clumsiness you describe, and why you experienced double vision before your fall.’

I look at Dom, who’s staring straight ahead, completely bewildered, then focus my attention on Dr Salessi.

‘I’m sorry, I just can’t accept what you’re telling me. The anomalies must be related to my concussion. I need another opinion – from a different hospital altogether. What do I need to do to arrange this?’

‘Alex, you are in shock, which is a normal reaction.’ Dr Salessi’s tone is kind and empathetic. ‘You can request other opinions. We can even redo the scan once your concussion has subsided. Unfortunately, it is not going to change the outcome.’

‘But I need—’

‘Lex, please stop.’ Dom suddenly comes back to life. ‘You’re not helping yourself. I completely understand your wish for this to go away. I want it to go away. But it’s not going to, no matter how hard you push. It’s clear that the doctor knows what he’s talking about, and two people can’t be wrong.’

He grabs my hand and squeezes it, his eyes slightly pink round the edges from the emotion he’s trying to suppress.

‘You’ve got MS, Lex, and the sooner you accept the diagnosis, the sooner we can get you the support you need. I’m so sorry, kitten. I’m so bloody sorry.’

I look into Dom’s big blue eyes, which are now filling with tears, and I can’t speak. I can’t think. I’m completely lost.