Emergency

If I had to break my arm, be treated by an EMT and hauled off to a hospital, Nick was definitely the medical professional to have by my side. I didn't care about the pain anymore. I just had fun with him, laughing and joking all the way to the ER.

We pulled up to the hospital doors and his partner opened the doors from the outside. I started to get up from my bed, but he stopped me. "Uh-uh. No way. You're riding into the ER on this lovely gurney. No arguments." I wonder what made him think I would protest this. Could it be the fact that being wheeled into emergency for a simple broken arm seemed like complete overkill? I sighed, knowing that there was nothing I could do about it, and settled myself in for the ride into the hospital.

The rain was still coming down hard, and Nick gave me a blanket to shield myself from the rain. I pulled it up over my head, giving the illusion of a ghost needing medical attention.

"That's a good look for you, Casper," he said.

"Don't make fun of me. You're the one that gave me the blanket."

I heard the automatic doors open and the pattering of raindrops on cotton stopped abruptly. I peeked out from beneath my blanket, surveying the scene before me. The ER wasn't very busy in the middle of the day. There was a middle-aged man in one observation area, and a young boy in the process of getting a bright blue cast put on his leg. Medical professionals milled around in scrubs, chatting and using their downtime to catch up with files and administrative issues that had long been ignored in the periods of chaos. Nick wheeled me into observation room three.

"Are you comfy?" he asked. "Can I get you anything?" I told him I was fine. He patted my leg. "Not to worry. We're going to get you the best doctor this place has to offer. That's not saying much, but hey, you can't screw up putting a cast on an arm." He winked and walked into the hallway. I couldn't help smiling.

The next few hours were busy ones. Phlebotomists drawing blood in spite of protests that a broken arm really didn't require bloodletting. Orderlies rolling me to Radiology for X-rays to make sure that it was a clean, simple break and not something that would need surgery. An exciting meal of hospital turkey and cold green beans. Yum! A handful of questions about my fingertips, and why four of them had bandages on them; I tried to make up a reasonable excuse, but they knew I was lying. Hey, what can they expect? They know I'm on just about every psychologically-altering drug that a psychologist can prescribe. It's not like we're pretending that I'm stable.

Nick had long since gone back to work. "Off to save another damsel in distress," he said. "But I'll be back before you know it." And he was. By the time I was eating my hospital-cooked meal, he had returned, sitting by my bedside and marveling at the perfect roundness of mashed potatoes dispensed with an ice cream scoop. We were laughing and having a good old time when the doctor returned.

"So," I asked, "is it time to put me in a cast yet? Because in spite of my love for this gourmet food, I really feel that I must be going."

He leaned against the cabinet that housed the bandages, syringes and other miscellaneous hospital goodies, arms crossed, with my chat tucked under his armpit. "We'll fix up that arm in a moment. But before that, I have a few questions for you."

I had told the arm-breaking story to everyone who came into the room. Everyone from the attending nurse to the orderly asked me how it happened, so I was in no mood to tell it again, and I told him so.

"I don't have questions about your arm," he said. "I want to discuss proper prenatal care. Have you been taking vitamins? Folic acid?"

I felt Nick pull away from the side of my bed. I dropped my fork into the mashed potatoes. The room fell completely silent. I could hear the sound of a nurse in the hallway, discussing lab results with a doctor. I couldn't move. The doctor began to speak again. I know this because I saw his lips moving. But I didn't hear a word. Nick stood up and walked towards the door. I stared at him. He turned to look at me, disappointment and hurt in his eyes. I couldn't speak. Pregnant! Oh dear god, how could I possibly be pregnant? I couldn't catch my breath. The doctor darted forward and placed an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. Nick vanished from the doorway. I began to cry again, for the third time today.

The doctor left the room and I was alone for several minutes, sucking oxygen through the mask in hysterical gulps, before a young nurse returned. She smiled warmly and began to gather the tools needed to apply the cast. I couldn't speak. My eyes were puffy, my face salty from dried tears. She approached my bedside and patted my hand. "It's ok, sweetie," she said. "You'll be ok. You're strong." I felt anything but strong. I felt weak and helpless and alone. And now there were two of us. Oh god, oh god, oh god.... I could feel my throat closing again as I struggled for breath. This time the oxygen didn't do enough. I blacked out right in front of the nurse.

When I regained consciousness, there were three of them standing over me: two nurses and the doctor. "Rough day," he said, more as an observation than sympathetic reassurance. I nodded, still choked up. I hated the feeling of the oxygen mask on my face. I pulled the mask away.

"Are you...?" I stopped, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Am I sure?" he asked. "Yes. The bloodwork is conclusive."

I stared into the distance. "Well. That's.... That's a surprise."

"You'd be amazed by how many unplanned pregnancies we see," said the dark-haired nurse. "I don't know if it makes you feel better, but you're far from the only one."

I nodded, knowing this was true, but hating the fact that it happened to me. Everything was blurry and confused. Nothing made sense. I didn't know what I was going to do.

Stepping outside the hospital door into the rainy afternoon, I began to walk home. By the time I arrived I was soaked to the bone, with the exception of the cast which they wrapped in plastic before putting it in the sling. The cat meowed her protest at my absence. I had forgotten to feed her before I left the house. I opened a can of cat food, tried my best to dish most of it into her bowl with my one good hand, and headed to the shower to get warm and stop my teeth from chattering.

Wrapped in my robe, I sat and gazed out the window, watching the brake lights as traffic went by. There was only one thing to do. I dried my hair, grabbed jeans and a sweater and headed for the bar where I met the one-night stand who was now the father of my child. I didn't know what to say to him if I found him. Fortunately, I never had to come up with a good way to broach the subject, because I never saw him again, in spite of going nearly every night for two weeks. I was completely alone.