my little piece of the pie...
an excerpt:
Georgia O�Keefe gracing the walls in a subliminally damning sort of scream. I shudder beneath my skimpy hospital robe and glance down to my clothes sitting between my feet in a plastic blue basket like the one I threw the pregnancy test into in the first place. I look up quickly and see the shattered faces of seven other women discreetly looking anywhere that might not have eyes to judge the likes of us, the ones that sit in a Planned Parenthood on a Tuesday afternoon when we should be in class, at work, or watching TV. My legs grow goose bumps and a bit of nausea comes and goes. My morning sickness has gotten to be a problem over the past week, even though I�m only shy of two months.
A nurse pops open the door with a smile that hopes to sedate, �Janet?� A small teenage girl of about seventeen whimpers and lifts her head. She shakily reaches for her own yellow basket and stands on the same quivering ground that I�m sure brought her to this little clinic in West Boston.
The pair leave together, and I sigh.
There�s only one more girl left in the original group that I joined in this purgatory. She�s dozing in the corner. Nurses are in and out, showing each new patient the dressing rooms and the baskets and the bathrooms.
Another shiver runs up my spine, and I curl up to rest my heavy head on my chilled knees. The eight chairs in the waiting room are full again. it�s not too late. i can leave, do this another day, when i�m feeling stronger. i haven�t done anything but register and hand over my life savings. i bet they�ll be able to do it another day. I try to talk myself out of it.
The doorknob jiggles and another nurse enters. She�s in her late twenties with tattoos on her arm and piercings glimmering over her face. �Kim?� A slender black girl with a slight bulge to her tummy rises quietly and follows the nurse out the door.
I glance at the empty gray chair and shiver. A knot tightens in my belly right on top of where another human being is growing and shaping.
My ears perk up and start to cry as �What a Wonderful World� comes through the tiny speaker in the ceiling. I catch eyes with a hispanic girl, and her sad face lights in a sympathetic smile as she says, �I can�t believe the music in here.�
�Yeah,� I stutter, �you�d think they were trying to depress us even more.�
�I don�t know about you girls,� a girl who had been a fly on the wall says, �but I�m four months. That�s why I�m so big. I couldn�t afford this.�
�Yeah, they don�t really take insurance here.�
�No, I guess they don�t.�
And I suppose at this point in the conversation, we all became faceless charts on a list of women on a Tuesday who needed something �taken care of.� All eight of us, gathered into that tiny room, slipped gracelessly back into the rolls that we had fixed for ourselves.
�Ashley?� My head jerks up. I was so involved in taking count of the girls in the room who were willing to survive outside of society�s standards that I�ve lost count of time, and twenty minutes has passed without a shiver. I see the nurse�s eyes behind her small wire-framed glasses.
I stand, breathing heavily, �Yeah.�
�If you�ll just follow me.�
�OK,� I mutter absently as my head instinctively turns to look back at the room I�m leaving. This dark pit with pale tangled faces looks back at me. As I take my slow careful steps behind the nurse�s solid invisible footprints, I hear hollow but caring voices saying �good luck...� and �take care...� and the fly on the wall says, �see you in recovery...�
The nurse takes my blue basket from my sweaty hands and leads me across the chilly hall to the appropriately named �Procedure Room.�
�I�ll just put your basket here on the chair, and you can have a seat on the table,� she says as if I�m waiting to be interviewed or just waiting which I�m very used to at this point in the afternoon.
I look over to the monstrosity of a table that she�s pleasantly suggest I have a seat on, and I wonder if anyone could ever eat dinner off of a table like that. Somehow, I know that nobody has ever considered the fact that surgeries and dinner parties both take place at tables ... and perhaps we should start sedation at the appetizers.
I hop ... more like climb ... onto the heightened table covered in crispy white medical paper, and the nurse asks me if I�d like a blanket. My nipples perked and teeth chattering, I nod enthusiastically.
�I�m cold.�
�I guess it is a might bit chilly in here,� she says as she tucks the thin, white, cotton blanket around my shoulders. I don�t think I�ve ever seen something so white, so clean, to cover such an atrocity as I could possibly represent at this moment.
�Lean back.� I obediently recline, trying desperately to protect myself with my wonderful white cotton blanket. �I�m just going to take your pulse, your blood pressure, and then I�ll put the I.V. in, alright?� the nurse quietly implies, rather than says.
�Alright,� my unsteady voice pushes. She proceeds to take my vitals. Then my mind is gone completely. I�ve gone ... true to my expectations and wondering when this will all be over ... because i can�t imagine my life after this, but i certainly don�t remember a clear day before that night ... frogs and lilypads ... who used to say that? i think it was my girl scout camp counselor. frogs and lilypads, she�d screech when something didn�t go her way. we called her sugarplum because that�s what she looked like. her face was round and red ... her nutmeg brown hair ... I feel a pinch.
�That�s good, I�m just going to tape down the I.V. since we don�t want to lose it. Now the doctors going to come in and do a quick pelvic examine before I can give you your medicine.�
�Alright.�
�I�ll be right back.�
And she leaves, drawing the curtain around the doorway, I glance around the room. Directly across from me, in a cubby cut into the counter, I see a greenish tinted glass jar with a hose coming out of it. There�s no way I can separate my gaze or think about anything else. I want to know what it looks like after.
The door opens.
�Hello, Ashley, I�m Dr. Hawkins. How are you doing?� For some reason, right now, I find it incredibly difficult not to look at her like she�s completely insane.
�Um, as good as I can be, I suppose,� but I recognize that my voice has gone flighty, following the nervousness.
�I know. Now, I�m just going to give you a quick pelvic exam,� she says routinely as she looks at a folder with �Ashley G.� printed in block, black letters on the little tab. �So, September 27th, that makes you six weeks and six days. Let�s just see ...� And the nurse motions for me to scoot down on the table.
�That�s it, your knees rest here and here,� she explains as she helps me into the vulnerable position.
�A little pressure,� and I feel the doctor�s fingers enter me and feel around a bit. �Good, you can give her her medicine now.�
Good. I like medicine. Medicine means better. I like better.
The nurse comes back around the table and starts to inject the I.V. with some wonderful serum or another.
Then, someone let the small talk in, but my sick fascination with the jar across from me just kills the conversation for lack of participation on my part.
The nurse and the doctor are talking about something.
�A pinch or two ...� and I realize that the doctor is administering the shots of local anesthetic.
I like medicine, because it lets me go far away ... that�s just where i go, away from here and further away from now ... where else would i want to be ... and this woman is still holding my hand with rubbery gloves which have some vague form of humanity underneath them ... i can�t detect it ... the darker than lilac purple of the doctor and the cotton candy nurse are blending and warping together as if they work together a little too frequently ... they�re still talking ...
�We�re in the last step now, you�re doing great.�
I feel a tug and more tugs, and right under my belly button there�s a vacuum cleaner. why is there a vacuum ... oh, she�s cleaning out my belly ... she�s making it ok for me to live and be me ... she�s taking away the timing ... she�s taking away the confusion ... she�s taking away my mistake .. and the night with heavy words, the tone that changed and brought someone�s world crashing down though we�re not sure whose yet ... the jury is still out on a lot of things ... he looked at me the way he rarely does, with sympathy and concern ... days ahead will be full of those glances and those ... as we curled on the couch, me comforted in his arms ... my loved belly ... being changed now ... being altered and prodded ... wondering who we were saying goodbye to ... caden with his nervous waiting room goodbye and me with my present state goodbye and everyone with their sorrowful goodbyes not sure how to say it all ... i can�t be selfless ... he began to lightly run his fingers over the bare patch of stomach that my lifted shirt had exposed ... i could have had this child and i could have married this wonderful man ... i suppose we can chalk it up to timing ... but she�s taking that away ... he seems miles away as i want him to hold me and reassure me and maybe just touch my hand with those eyes ... it passes ... she�s taking it away ... she would have been a gemini, split like twins, between what he tells her and what i do ... utterly him and for better or for worse me ... she�s taking it away ... they�re still talking ... what are they talking about ... him and me, we�re all that�s there ... and this will be taken care of ...
The suction disappears as quickly as it appeared. I feel the far away sensation of cold metal being removed from my body, and I sigh with relief.
�It�s all done. You did great, Ashley.�
�Thank you,� and that�s all I could say was thank you to the doctor, to the nurse, to each aid and counselor and receptionist that I came in contact with. All I could mutter was a sincere thank you.
***
(it was just something i was thinking about today ... something i think about everyday. and i decided that this excerpt from my book was a necessary expression, and it's certainly a little piece of my nowhere near perfection.)
