They stopped at the door to a small, cubical-shaped exam room. Inside, she gave Beth a crisp cotton gown. “It ties in the back. Make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be in soon.”
The nurse shut the door behind her, leaving Beth in the midst of another designer’s utopia, this one inspired by Pepto-Bismol. Fitting. Her stomach turned just thinking about the physical exam.
The faux-painted, pink walls featured more baby artwork. Except for the standard medical amenities, Beth could have been inside a plush hotel suite. After undressing and slipping on the gown, she took a seat on the examination table. Then she covered her legs with the pink sheet that had been provided.
Why were doctors’ offices always so cold? A chill traipsed up and down her spine while she sat, waiting, inside the frigid cubical. She pulled the sheet tighter to herself as shadows from the past danced around the room. Despite the luxurious accoutrements, the surroundings weren’t all that different from those almost ten years ago. The old memories came rushing back. Memories she had tried to forget. Her heart pounded when Dr. Myers knocked on the door and, right on cue, tears rolled down Beth’s cheeks.
The tall, dark-haired physician, who wore her hair in a pixie-cut, entered the room, the nurse one step behind her. “Hi, I’m Nicole Myers . . .”
When she saw Beth’s tears, she frowned and handed her a tissue. “Bethany, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. How embarrassing.” Beth shook her head and dried her eyes. “I’m just a little emotional.” She could feel the heat creeping into her face.
“Not that uncommon, my dear. You have a few extra hormones floating around in your system right now.” Dr. Myers offered a reassuring smile and then rolled the chrome stool from the corner of the room closer to the examination table.
Beth watched the slender woman, who was probably ten years older than her, take a seat on the stool and begin to read through her chart. “You have a lot going on. I can understand why you’re concerned. But,” she smiled, “you know what? We can get you through this. You and your baby can get through this.”
The doctor’s words raised Beth’s spirits. “Thank you, Dr. Myers.”
“How much morphine are you on right now?”
“Twenty-five milligrams.”
The obstetrician made a written notation. “Okay.” She set the papers aside. “Let’s do the exam.” She spoke over her shoulderto the nurse. “Alisha, I want to draw an extra vial of blood before Bethany leaves. I’ll need to run some additional tests.”
The gray-haired woman nodded and prepared a syringe, making quick work of the task, before rejoining the doctor at the exam table. While doing Beth’s physical, Dr. Myers chatted about baby names, nursery furniture, and mother-child portraits.
The latter amused Beth in light of the wall art throughout the doctor’s office. The woman was obsessed with baby photography. But Beth liked her a lot. Her hopes soared. Perhaps her baby would survive this high-risk pregnancy after all. Only one question remained.
“Everything looks good. Let’s talk.” Dr. Myers once again took a seat on the stool and picked up Beth’s chart. “What concerns you the most?”
“What do you mean?” Beth tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“You were upset when I came into the room earlier. Fill me in. I want to know how I can help you.” The doctor looked squarely into Beth’s eyes.
Beth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve never shared this with anyone. But I know I need to tell you. I want to give my baby the best chance possible.” Her voice trembled. “I had an abortion when I was in college, and I’m concerned it will affect my pregnancy.”
“Was there anything unusual about your abortion?” The doctor asked. “Was it late term?”
“Oh, no. I was only about eight weeks.”
“Good. Did you have complications? Uncontrolled bleeding? Infection?
The nurse shut the door behind her, leaving Beth in the midst of another designer’s utopia, this one inspired by Pepto-Bismol. Fitting. Her stomach turned just thinking about the physical exam.
The faux-painted, pink walls featured more baby artwork. Except for the standard medical amenities, Beth could have been inside a plush hotel suite. After undressing and slipping on the gown, she took a seat on the examination table. Then she covered her legs with the pink sheet that had been provided.
Why were doctors’ offices always so cold? A chill traipsed up and down her spine while she sat, waiting, inside the frigid cubical. She pulled the sheet tighter to herself as shadows from the past danced around the room. Despite the luxurious accoutrements, the surroundings weren’t all that different from those almost ten years ago. The old memories came rushing back. Memories she had tried to forget. Her heart pounded when Dr. Myers knocked on the door and, right on cue, tears rolled down Beth’s cheeks.
The tall, dark-haired physician, who wore her hair in a pixie-cut, entered the room, the nurse one step behind her. “Hi, I’m Nicole Myers . . .”
When she saw Beth’s tears, she frowned and handed her a tissue. “Bethany, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. How embarrassing.” Beth shook her head and dried her eyes. “I’m just a little emotional.” She could feel the heat creeping into her face.
“Not that uncommon, my dear. You have a few extra hormones floating around in your system right now.” Dr. Myers offered a reassuring smile and then rolled the chrome stool from the corner of the room closer to the examination table.
Beth watched the slender woman, who was probably ten years older than her, take a seat on the stool and begin to read through her chart. “You have a lot going on. I can understand why you’re concerned. But,” she smiled, “you know what? We can get you through this. You and your baby can get through this.”
The doctor’s words raised Beth’s spirits. “Thank you, Dr. Myers.”
“How much morphine are you on right now?”
“Twenty-five milligrams.”
The obstetrician made a written notation. “Okay.” She set the papers aside. “Let’s do the exam.” She spoke over her shoulderto the nurse. “Alisha, I want to draw an extra vial of blood before Bethany leaves. I’ll need to run some additional tests.”
The gray-haired woman nodded and prepared a syringe, making quick work of the task, before rejoining the doctor at the exam table. While doing Beth’s physical, Dr. Myers chatted about baby names, nursery furniture, and mother-child portraits.
The latter amused Beth in light of the wall art throughout the doctor’s office. The woman was obsessed with baby photography. But Beth liked her a lot. Her hopes soared. Perhaps her baby would survive this high-risk pregnancy after all. Only one question remained.
“Everything looks good. Let’s talk.” Dr. Myers once again took a seat on the stool and picked up Beth’s chart. “What concerns you the most?”
“What do you mean?” Beth tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“You were upset when I came into the room earlier. Fill me in. I want to know how I can help you.” The doctor looked squarely into Beth’s eyes.
Beth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve never shared this with anyone. But I know I need to tell you. I want to give my baby the best chance possible.” Her voice trembled. “I had an abortion when I was in college, and I’m concerned it will affect my pregnancy.”
“Was there anything unusual about your abortion?” The doctor asked. “Was it late term?”
“Oh, no. I was only about eight weeks.”
“Good. Did you have complications? Uncontrolled bleeding? Infection?
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