Today had been excruciating, I was exhausted and the last thing in the world I felt like doing was opening that large glass door, but I knew it could not be avoided. So, I rolled my shoulders back took a deep breath and then pulled open the door to the Emergency Room. I went to the receptionist and gave them the name, "Elizabeth Gold," stating that I had no insurance even though I knew my medical card was current and in my purse, but it had a different name on it and I could not risk having this being tracked. When asked how I would pay I stated cash, to a stunned receptionist and then went to sit and wait with a stack of papers to fill out a medical history, which I could not be truthful about. Sitting in this room with people in and out, sick and in pain, I felt peace for the first time in months, as we suffered, some not as silently as I, but suffered together and I felt as I belonged.
When the nurse came in calling Elizabeth Gold, it took her four tries, before I realized she was calling me, I usually picked a closer name, but this hospital was too close for me to do that. I walked back with her the best I could as she took me into a room and did the regular drill: blood pressure, temperature, and gauging pain, before she told me that the doctor on call would be in to see me soon and to change into a gown. While waiting in the cold sterile room, I know longer felt at peace but nervous and anxious. I was scared, tired and just in too much pain to want to deal with the onslaught of questions that were bound to follow the doctor's inspection of my injuries.
I was stunned when there was a knock on my door and this tall, lithe doctor walked in. I thought only men that good-looking were on television, surely not doctors, I could see that he was an older man, but only by the crinkles around his eyes. He had golden hair and the kindest eyes I had ever seen; they were a bright blue and striking. He had a soft voice as he introduced himself as Dr. Cullen, and asked me to bear with him as he was not usually the on-call E.R. doctor and was filling in. It seemed he realized how uneasy I was because he was very gentle in his probing questions as he asked me about my history that he said seemed incomplete, I just shrugged my shoulders. He seemed to realize I would not say more on the matter so decided to delve into why I was here.
I took a deep breath and replied that, "I am quite certain I have two broken ribs and that I need stitches in the cut on my head, I tried to bandage it, but it does not seem to be helping." He looked quite shock and then walked behind me which startled me and I quickly jerked away as he touched my hair trying to locate the wound.
"Steady Mrs. Gold, I am just trying to assess the wound triage did not write anything about a head wound." He said in a low gentle voice, as he moved his hands to the side of my head he discovered the butterfly bandages and some dried blood from where they were pulling. After he inspected the wound he then asked me to indicate where my pain was on my ribs, and then came the most unbearable part of the exam the whole reason I almost resisted walking into the hospital, he touched my side and then you could see when he stopped I could tell the moment he saw the scars. Scars which were the bane of my existence and would lead to the questions.
I was shocked when he did not ask me questions about the scars but continued to ask routine questions about my pain and ribs, and decided that while I need an x-ray he concurred with my conclusion of broken ribs. He told me he would be back in to stitch up my head, but first I needed to pee in the cup to make sure it was okay for me to have the x-ray. I tried to assure him, that it was not possible for me to be pregnant, but he just smiled and said it was procedure and that he would be back in a few moments. When he came back he was followed by a nurse to set up the tools and materials for the stitches. I did not make a noise as he gave me a local, cleaned the wound and then stitched me up. I was petrified of needles, but I just sat there motionless crying silently, knowing it would only make things harder to let my fear get the better of me. Once he was done, he was oddly quiet he seemed, unsure of what to say and a little disturbed, it seemed to me that he was not used to the Emergency Room cases at all he seemed very upset, maybe he was a family practice doctor and was unused to these type of cases. Most Emergency Room Doctors just looked at me with pity in their eyes and a little blame. I did not know and did not want to encourage conversation, so I was left just wondering. He told me quietly that he was finished and I had required 9 stitches and that he would be back with the test results to see if he could send me to radiology. This was all very routine and I just nodded, I felt comfortable in the familiarity of it. The only difference, being the best so far, that he never asked me about my scars, which was very much appreciated in my mind.
What I was not prepared for was the biggest shock of my life, I finally decided that it was okay and I would be okay, when Dr. Cullen came in looking very ashen.
"Mrs. Gold while I realize you seemed to be sure that you were not able to be pregnant, the test came back positive." While I am sure he went on to say more I could not hear him, I was so shocked, this could not happen. This was not happening was the last thought I had before the darkness took over.
There was an incessant beeping and it would not stop, I moved to try and shut the alarm off quickly, before it woke him, but my movement was hampered by something pulling my arm and stinging. I opened my eyes to not see myself in my room with the shades of blue, but in a sterile room of white, with machines. I was in the hospital, but I could not remember how I got here. I knew I couldn't have come in by ambulance, he would never call it would raise too many questions. How did I get here, I tried to think back, but could not. All I could remember were blue compassionate eyes.
What was more shocking was a few more moments of the incessant beeping and I was suddenly looking into the eyes I remembered. I thought he was talking to me, but he started asking questions to Mrs. Gold. I looked around the room, but saw no one else. I decided to speak, "I think you have the wrong room, my name is Isabella."
He did not seem shocked this however. "Well, Isabella. It seems you suffered more from the head wound than we first thought. I am almost certain you have a concussion along with the hormones, from the early stages of your pregnancy. I think that is why you lost consciousness. You have been admitted and will need to stay at least overnight for observation."
I took in what he said, but pregnant? I couldn't be pregnant. Apparently I had voiced my opinion, because Dr. Cullen assured me that I was indeed pregnant they had done blood tests to confirm it while I was unconscious. There was a knock on the door, but I could not comprehend who would be here, no one I knew would be here, because I had told no one. It was then that the largest man I had ever seen, even larger than him appeared in my door. He seemed like he barely fit through the door, I shrunk back into the bed very scared, and then I zoned in on his badge and became even more nervous.
Dr. Cullen seemed to be very grateful to see him. He then turned to me and told me that it was procedure to report all cases of abuse, looking a little ashamed as he say the look of betrayal on my face. Now it was coming back to me I could remember the whole bizarre exam, no wonder he didn't ask questions, he had already decided to call the police! I quickly started to get up agitated. When Dr. Cullen attempted to get me to sit I screamed at the top of my lungs, the large man just looked on in pure shock.
"NO! No! I will not stay here, I do not want to report anything so you can leave and so can your brute, you cannot intimidate me into it! Get me whatever papers I need, but I am leaving! RIGHT NOW!" I was in panic mode, this just could not be happening.
"Isabella, I will get you the papers if you wish and no one is trying to intimidate you, but I do want you to think of one thing before you leave. You are no longer the only person at risk. You have a concussion and you are not only risking your own safety, but now the safety of your child. I am in no way trying to intimidate you."
That made me stop, my child? Could I really hurt a child? There were so many thoughts so many questions I sat back down stunned. What in the world could I do?
Finally the large man started to speak in a booming voice, "Ma'am my name is Detective McCarty, I am in no way trying to intimidate you, but I can try to help you find a way through this situation, which is legal and safe for both you and your child."
"Detective? Why would a detective be the responder to an abuse concern in a hospital?" I asked in shock.
"Well, that would be my fault dear. It seems to me you are in a bad situation and I thought you may need more help than normally could be afforded to you Detective McCarty, is my son-in-law, I called him. I am not trying to pressure you, but just wanted you to be able to have someone who could help you." Hearing the words and seeing the look on Dr. Cullen's face I realized that he was way more dangerous than a regular Emergency Room Doctor, for the simple fact he cared.
"You can't help me; I've been down this road it will not work. I am sorry, I will try to figure something out on my own, but it is best for you both to forget this entire exchange. There is nothing for you to help me with and nothing to report. I am simply very clumsy and fell down the stairs and hit my head. I would like those papers now please. I need to get home." I said quietly, but as firmly as possible.
I could see the disappointment in the doctors' eyes and it stung, more than it should have from a man I did not know, but I could not endanger either of these men. It would only end badly.
I could not believe what just happened, I had heard the horror stories of the E.R. and knew that most abuse victims were reluctant to come forward, but I just knew that if I get here the help, with the thought of her child, she would report it she would get help and get away. I knew it was hard, I was very aware of the struggle, my poor Esme, barely made it away with her life. Maybe, that was why this was so personal, I saw this young woman and just thought it would be a simple rib issue, when she told me she needed stitched in her head I was shocked, she wasn't outwardly showing any wounds, and the triage nurse hadn't written that down, when I saw the butterfly bandages and the way she hid it with her hair I started to get a nagging feeling, but it was when I saw the scars, I lost all doubt and knew. How could anyone stay through that kind of abuse? I just knew I had to help her, which was why I had to get Emmett and together we would be able to help her, but she threw me for a spin once again. Refusing to even listen and then being petrified of Emmett. She shirked away from him even while yelling, telling us there was nothing to report and that she fell down the stairs, which was just not possible with her injuries. Emmett left not long after her saying he would try to see if he could try to find anything, but since all we really knew was that her first name was Isabella, because of when she slipped up after first regaining consciousness he was not hopeful.
Eventually thoughts of Isabella and her problems, were not weighing on my mind. I would not say that I forgot, because she was always a thought, but as time passes things fade and everyday catches up.
I received an emergency call during the middle of dinner, my wife Esme, being married to a doctor or over 35 years just smiled and said she would save me a plate as I got up to leave. The hospital said that the woman had been six months pregnant she was in an accident. She had lost the baby and was barely stable. She had punctured a lung, broken a leg, and that she needed immediate surgery, but there were some complications and they were afraid of the risk of spinal cord injury. By the time I had gotten to the hospital and was walking into surgery, I had lost all thoughts of Isabella that was until I saw her face on my surgery table. To say I was shocked was an understatement. It took all of my years of training to be able to push aside my personal feelings and go to work to not only save her life, but to attempt to make sure she did not become a paraplegic.
After the surgery was over, I was told that Isabella Black's husband was in the waiting room. When I walked in the room, I saw red, I now understood why Isabella was so afraid of Emmett, it was not just because he was a man, but because he was so large. Her husband, while not as muscular as my son was as tall and still very large in his own right. He had striking long black hair and when I told him that she would live, but could not speak of if you would be paralyzed or what permanent damage she would suffer. I could see it in his eyes, the murder, the shock that she lived, and then the rage, which he directed at me for "not being able to do my job and make sure she was okay." Security was quickly called, but Mr. Black seemed to settle down saying he was just overwhelmed with the news, but I knew better.
Before I left I said, "You never asked how your child was Mr. Black, I am sorry to tell you that your son did not live." If I live to be 100, I will never forget the look on his face, it was like the masked slipped, he was shocked and then just smirked.