Page 9 of Both Sides Now

Now, I do my duty and leave my opinions at the door. There’s simply no room for them in this line of work. At least, not if I want to maintain a patient roster.

Settling behind the desk, I fold my hands in front of me, meeting her gaze. Unlike some of my patients, she’s not giving off an air of nervousness or desperation. I get a different read off her. Determination. That’s a nice change. “What brings you to my office, Callista?”

“I want to have a baby. Although you likely knew that already.”

“Your file indicates that you’re thirty-seven years old, and you don’t have any children?”

She nods, her lithe fingers toying with the edge of the desk. “That’s correct.”

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

“Three times. I suffered miscarriages with all three, early in the pregnancy.”

I clear my throat, tapping my pen against the desk. Her history is all too common and often doesn’t bode well for the patient, especially after three failed pregnancies.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

My eyes widen as I meet her gray gaze. Damn, the woman has the most unique eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like a storm brewing over the ocean, and right now, they’re ready to rail at me. “What am I thinking, Callista?”

She stands, pacing the length of the carpet. For such a tiny woman, she certainly takes determined strides. “That I’m too old. I’ve had too many failed pregnancies. I should just suck it up and accept my situation.” Callista stops directly in front of me, turning to face me. “But you’re wrong.”

I lean back in my chair, the corners of my mouth pulling up. “You’ve summed up our entire visit, and all I’ve done is say hello and ask your age.” I hold up my hand to halt her answer. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re wrong about what I’m thinking.”

“Bugger. Now, you also likely think I’m a haughty bitch.” She flops back into her seat with a sigh. “I had to gear myself up for this visit. Be ready to take on whatever argument you threw at me.”

“As much as I’m enjoying your self-diagnosis, and diagnosis of me, might I jump in? Offer my two cents? I have a little experience with the subject.”

Callista chuckles, wiping her hand across her brow. “I’m sorry, Dr. Russo. I’m like a cat on hot bricks today.”

I can’t hold back the chuckle. “A what?”

“Good old British slang. I’m nervous.”

“You know what helps nerves?”

“Whiskey?”

Her banter and sarcasm are infectious. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed speaking to a patient in this manner. Or any woman.

“True. I’m referring to answers, though. I had a professor in medical school who said that you don’t need all the answers. You only need to know where to look to find them.” I motion to myself. “I’m your means to find those answers.”

“I really hope so.” There’s something so earnest in her face, the set of her jaw. An immense pain bracketed by a thin layer of self-preservation.

This infertility issue has really put Mrs. Webster through the wringer. “Did they do any testing after your miscarriages?”

“No. They discussed it, but I never pursued it.”

An odd decision for someone so desperate to have a child. “That’s the first step, then. Obviously, you don’t have issues conceiving. Still, we have to verify if there is a physiological reason why you couldn’t carry a baby to term. We’ll draw some blood, check your hormone levels and then perform a transvaginal ultrasound. That will check the condition of your uterus and ovaries. Have you and your partner discussed alternatives if you can’t carry a baby to term?”

“I’ve looked into surrogacy as an option.”

Okay, still no mention of a partner. “What about adoption?”

“No.”

Her answer is quick. Final. Again, not the first time I’ve seen patients display this behavior. They don’t want to hear that natural conception methods won’t work for them. Often, after several rounds of failure and tens of thousands of dollars,they come around to the concept. “Let’s start with step one. We’ll draw some blood, and then I’ll examine you. When we’ve determined your ability to carry a child, we’ll take it from there. Fair enough?”

Callista nods, but she fails to stand when I do. That’s never a good sign.

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