Page 26 of Spike's Perdition
After getting checked in, the nurse escorts me to one of the bathrooms.
“Let’s get a urine sample first,” she says, handing me a plastic cup. “Then we’ll see what Dr. Hardy says after her exam and any other tests she might want.”
“Okay.” I take the cup and do my business, placing it behind the metal door on the wall when I’m done. Once I step into the hallway, the nurse beckons me to follow her to the exam room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Hardy bursts in. “Ah, Ivory, my favorite patient. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dr. Hardy winks. “Is it time for another physical?”
Dr. Hardy has been my doctor for years, and she knows I won’t willingly come to see her unless my hand is forced.
I really hate fucking needles.
“Um… no… nothing like that.”
Dr. Hardy looks down at my chart. “I’m teasing you, but just a heads up, we might have to draw blood today.”
I blanch. “I have faith in your abilities, so we definitely won’t need to do that.”
Dr. Hardy smirks. “When did your symptoms start?”
I quickly explain how I got sick a week ago, on the yearly camping trip, and how bad the rapids were. I also tell her that I’m still nauseous, dizzy, and tired.
“Could I have a parasite?” I ask nervously.
Dr. Hardy narrows her gaze. “What have I told you about WebMD?”
“To stay away from it.”
“Let’s go ahead and get started.” She pokes and prods around my mouth, nose, and ears before making me lie down on the crinkly paper-covered exam table. Dr. Hardy pushes around on my stomach. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” I say, while silently thanking God it doesn’t and for not hurling all over her shoes.
Dr. Hardy tugs my hand to help me sit back up. The room spins around me, and I close my eyes, breathe deeply through my nose, and exhale through my mouth.
“Dizzy?”
“I got up too fast, I think.”
“Hmm.”
Before I can ask what she’s thinking, a knock on the door interrupts us.
The nurse rushes forward and gives Dr. Hardy a piece of paper. “Here’re Ms. Whitman’s urine results.”
She studies it for a moment before a smile spreads across her face.
“I take it by that smile on your face, I passed, and it’s good news,” I say, relieved.
“Yes, I’d say it’s good news, but also possibly bad news.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “What’s the bad news?”
“We’re gonna have to draw some blood today.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “If that’s the bad news, what the hell could possibly be the good news?”
“I’d like to take some blood to be a hundred percent accurate, but judging on the levels of your HCG, you’re pregnant. Congratulations!”
“No… no… no,” I deny. “That can’t be right. I’m on the shot.”
