Page 64 of Implode

When I step out onto the street, I find Dan leaning against a light post. My heart sinks at how I am going to get away and get some help without drawing any attention to my situation. My emotions are all mixed up, and I just need the space to think clearly again.

“I am going to go home,” I lie to Dan. “I just need to get more sleep.”

He seems to buy it, and when I see him retreat back down the street toward HH, I sigh in relief. I get into the ride and tell the driver, “Please take me to Portland General.”

I check in inside the waiting room of the ER and wait for my turn. It takes roughly twenty minutes for my name to be called by a nurse wearing blue scrubs. She has braided hair and smiles at me, making me want to cry even more.

“I am sorry,” I sniffle, walking toward her. I dab my nose with the balled-up tissue I have squeezed into the palm of my hand.

“You are in good hands here,” she says sweetly. She grabs a wheelchair from the side closet and opens it up for me to sit in. “You are going to be transferred to Labor and Delivery since you have indicated that you think you are pregnant on the admittance form.”

“Okay…”

“Just sit and try to relax,” she comforts. “We’re going to take a little tour.”

I slide into the chair and allow her to push me through the hallway, into an elevator, and through a series of automatic doors and corridors. Based on the sign above the unit, I am in the triage section.

“Think you can give me a urine sample?” the nurse asks. When I nod, she hands me two square packages and a plastic cup that has a tamper-proof seal on it.

She helps me out of the wheelchair, and I walk into the bathroom with my supplies to give my sample. My hands shake as I follow the steps. As soon as I pull the cup away and see the blood-polluted pee, I start to cry again. I seal the lid, scribble my name, and then wash up.

“All done?”

I nod and bite my bottom lip between my teeth. I follow the nurse down the row of triage rooms, stopping at the one toward the end of the hall.

“Your new nurse and the doctor will be in shortly. Get undressed and put on the gown that is in the protective plastic on the bed. Take off your panties, but you can leave your bra on. I put some absorbent pads on the bed so you should be fine.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, staring at my little cubicle, made mostly of hung fabric.

I get naked and put on the blue geometric patterned gown that has too many snaps and ties. I toss my clothes into a pile on the chair and climb up on the cold bed using a footstool, pulling the disposable paper blanket up to my neck.

Thin cotton curtains separate me from the patients adjacent to me, so it is not shocking that I can hear the doctor in with the woman to my left. No matter how much effort I take to not listen, to just focus on my own steady breathing, I will never be able to forget his words—“I am so sorry.”

I flop back down on the lumpy temporary bed and listen to the quiet sobs from the mother-to-be. I want to pull the curtain back and give her a hug. She is by herself, except for a nurse who joins her. How awful.

My hands rest on my belly, and I pray that the baby is okay after my fall. I brace myself for the verdict as the doctor pulls back the panel of curtain and enters my open-air holding cell.

“Hi, Miss Nettles?”

I lift one corner of my lip and nod. I am fighting back the tears that want to desperately escape.Keep it together, Claire.

“I am Dr. Blackstone.” He adjusts his wire rim glasses on his pointy nose and glances down at the clipboard. “I see in your chart that you took some home pregnancy tests and discovered that you are pregnant.”

“Yes,” I confirm, my voice quivery.

Dr. Blackstone steps behind the curtain and comes back in with a cart on wheels with what appears to be an ultrasound machine on it. He places a condom over a long wand-like device, then squirts a clear gel over the tip. At this moment, I wish I would have ordered some type of baby book and brushed up on these types of procedures prior to today, because I haven’t seen one of those gadgets on any of the shows I have watched on TV with pregnant women.

“The first thing we need to do is confirm the pregnancy and then get an estimate on the number of weeks you are along.” He readjusts his glasses and looks down at my chart. “You know the date of your last period, I see, so that helps with the measurements.”

“But I fell and am bleeding,” I sniffle, a solo tear falling down my cheek.

The middle-aged doctor nods and clears his throat. “There can be many reasons why you are bleeding. Try to stay calm and not stress. Many things are out of your control during the first trimester. What you can control is your lifestyle choices and how you react to these little speed bumps in the road. Before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s first see if we see the sack. And the number of sacks.”

I completely forgot that having multiples is always a possibility. There is motion at the side curtain panel, and a young nurse enters to stand beside me. She is beautiful and has the most angelic eyes. She holds my hand as the doctor gives me instructions to lie back and spread my legs. And to relax. I must not forget to relax.

“I’m going to insert the transvaginal ultrasound wand since you are early along in your pregnancy. It may feel a bit cold but try to relax.”

I look at the monitor where a cone-like image appears. Dr. Blackstone moves the wand a bit and then smiles when he sees the little white kidney bean figure appear into view.

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