The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6

Keeping The Bean

“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”

I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.

Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.

It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.

How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?

I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.

We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.

Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.

“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”

I scoffed at Mr. F. Right. Like that’s going to happen.

Nevertheless, we still felt depressed about the news the doctor gave us.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 2

The OB-Gyne Lottery

So I loosened my death grip on the lounge chair and went inside.

“Dra. O will be with you shortly” the nice nurse said with a warm smile as led us into a little office.

It was definitely quiet in the little office with fresh pastels all around. Since it was a little bit cozy, I felt myself begin to relax.

“See? It’s not that bad, right?” said Mr. F.

I managed a smile. Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Wow! Pastels really do calm you down! I could feel myself actually loosening up.

I couldn’t care less if we got an old prude. We can always change doctors and never come back here again. Maybe a motherly type would be nice. You know, to take us by the hand and guide us through our impending parenthood?

The knob turns and in walks…a young girl. Who let the interns in!?

“Good morning! I see you’re here because you suspect you’re pregnant?” she smiles and looks up from my patient profile on her clip board.

Good God! Not only was this OB young, she looked exactly like one of my aunts! I can almost see her running straight to my mom to tell her about the nitty-gritty of my inner plumbing as soon as we’re out the door.

Shock must have registered on my face because Mr. F elbowed me into closing my mouth.

“I’m sorry. You look so young and you look like my aunt! I’m seriously weirded out” I say.

*Elbows*

“Sorry!”

The young doctor laughs with my aunt’s laugh (déjà vu) and say she’s pretty sure we’re not related.

Turns out she’s had a few years worth of live babies under her belt, a couple of hospitals residencies, and a big boy of her own.

Besides, she said, virtually her entire family was in medicine. Her father is also an OB, having delivered her kid (his grandson) via cesarean, her oldest brother is in general surgery; her other brother is in neonatal care and pediatrics, and their youngest brother ended up in pharmaceuticals (you know…just for a change of pace).

“So what does your husband practice?” we asked in awe.

“Ooh! I met him on a blind date!” She laughed.

“He’s in construction. So different, no?”

Mr. F and I couldn’t agree more.