I’m wide awake. Staring into the darkness, I have no idea what time it is. I fell asleep so early last night it could be as early as 4am. Quietly, I try to get out of bed and head to the bathroom. My roommate is apparently also awake because she asks me if I need a light. I’m relieved that I don’t have to feel my way through the darkness.
I settle back into bed waiting for the time to pass. Breakfast eventually comes. The nurse comes in to check our blood pressure. Then a doctor comes in to take blood. I think, due to my apparent health, that I’m not going to be subjected to his basket full of needles. I’m very wrong. Sitting down on my bed he reaches for the biggest bundle of vials. Then it hits me. I’m scheduled for surgery on Monday. They’re doing all this blood work in preparation.
The hours go by as I stare at the pages of my book thinking I will be able to concentrate if I try hard enough. Guests for my roommate come and go. The phone rings for her several times. I start to feel a little abandoned. When is the doctor coming? When will my husband be here? It’s 11:00 already. I head out into the stairwell to escape the lonely feeling in my room and to use my cell phone to track down my husband. The nurse stops me to tell me that the doctor just called and that I shouldn’t go anywhere. He’s on his way in. Good. Let’s get things going. As I start dialing my husband’s number from my cell phone he comes up the stairs – with some extra clothes, a bag from the bakery and bouquet of flowers. He gives me a hug and apologizes that it took him so long. My emotions make an instantaneous recovery.
We are back in my room when the nurse tells me my single room is ready. Things are getting better and better. It’s a cozy corner room with a round sitting corner flooded with light. The bed is electric which I realize if I do have an operation will be a god send. Richard sets my flowers on the counter and then I see it, a baby changing station. “That has to go,” I say like a general. Richard grabs it and stuffs it in a cabinet before I can even get teary eyed. Lunch is delivered and Richard and I chat while I try to eat the horrible meal of odd tasting potatoes and overcooked vegetables that taste like water. Just as I decide I’m done eating, the phone rings. It’s the nurse telling me the doctor is ready to see me.
We head over to the doctor’s office like we are going out for coffee: chatting, joking, and laughing. The doctor has me up on the table for another ultrasound. “Any pain?” he asks. “None,” I report proudly. He inserts the ultrasound wand and starts the usual exploration. He settles on my right ovary. Moving the wand back and forth he says, “See this mass? This was not here yesterday. See how it moves independently from everything else when I move the wand back and forth? I believe this is the pregnancy in your right fallopian tube.”
The final verdict: I have an ectopic pregnancy.
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