Stunned, numb, Luka walked slowly into the lounge. Thankfully, the room was empty. Nicole's words still echoed in his mind.
"I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry. I made it all up." He poured a cup of coffee and wrapped his ice-cold hands around the sides of the cup.
No baby. He should be glad, he told himself firmly. He hadn't *really* wanted a baby with Nicole, had he? He'd just been trying to make the best of a bad situation. No, of course he hadn't wanted children with Nicole. He'd wanted children with Danjiela -- a dozen of 'em.
But it had been so long, and while it would never been the same as before -- Nicole could never be Danijela -- he could never love her that way -- they would have still been a family. There would have been children, and *that* would have been the same.
The pain in his heart was only a fraction of the agony he'd felt that day in Vukovar (and, for so many months and years afterwards), but it was sharp enough. Still ... how do you grieve for a child who had never even been conceived? Who had only been a dream from the start?
Abby, to her credit, refrained from even hinting at "I told you so," when he told her. She was nothing but kind and sympathetic.
Over the next few weeks, Luka did his best to forget Nicole -- to forget the whole miserable episode. He'd arrived home from work that day to find Nicole's few possessions gone (and a few of his as well). She was, he thought, probably already in Montreal, finding another sucker to manipulate.
Still, doubts nagged at him. She had lied so often. What if this was a lie too? What if she was still pregnant, and struggling alone in Montreal? What would happen to his baby? Nicole wasn't the most responsible of people -- Luka found it hard to care what happened to her, really, but if *she* got into trouble, if she was homeless and on the street, or on drugs, or hooked up with an abusive man -- what would happen to the baby? To *his* baby? Maybe he should take a few days off, he thought, go to Montreal, see if she was ok.
But, what if that had been a lie too? Perhaps she hadn't gone to Montreal at all. She could have gone anywhere...
So.... Luka struggled to move on with life. Again.
-----
It was a few days before Christmas. Luka had just dispoed a toddler with a sore throat when the ambulance bay doors opened. A gurney. The paramedic immediately started to give him the bullet. "Twenty-four year old woman, collapsed on the el. Heavy vaginal bleeding, temp 103, tachy at 110...."
But Luka wasn't hearing her anymore. The soft blonde hair was stringy, the familiar face pale and damp with sweat....
Nicole's eyes met his with shocked recognition. "Luka..." her voice was frantic. "I asked them not to bring me here ... they said they had to; it was the closest..."
"It's ok," Luka said. "We'll take care of you. You may have been pregnant after all, you may have..."
Nicole's eyes widened a little, and she looked around in increasing panic. "Please ... can't I have another doctor?"
"It's ok, Nicole," Luka started to say again, but Susan interrupted.
"She's right, Luka. You shouldn't be involved in this one. She knows you, " (that was Susan, ever tactful, thought Luka...) "she doesn't want you taking care of her professionally. We've got it."
Helpless, Luka watched them wheel Nicole into the trauma room. He returned to his own patients, thankful that they were all simple and routine, nothing requiring more than a small percentage of his attention. Because his mind was on Nicole every moment, running through every possible scenario.
Maybe she'd really believed she wasn't pregnant, maybe she'd been spotting, had mistaken it for a period. Perhaps the fever was unrelated to the bleeding. it was, after all, December, and if she'd been on the street ... Or maybe she'd had a missed spontaneous abortion, and had become septic ... or had been raped ...
Every time Luka passed through the halls between patients he looked into the trauma room, but he couldn't tell what was happening, except that she seemed to be stable. He didn't dare loiter by the door long enough to get a better sense of the situation.
The morning string of routine cases was broken by a hot MI and a lengthy code. When Luka finally called it, and got the chance to check on Nicole again, the room was empty.
Frantic, he started off in search of Susan, and found her at the desk.
"How's Nicole?"
"She'll be fine," Susan said lightly. "Just sent her upstairs to GYN for a few days of IV antibiotics."
"No D&C?"
"I don't think she'll need one. Doesn't look like there was any retained tissue. The clinic did a decent job in clearing everything out, they could just stand a lesson or two in sterile technique." Susan shook her head. "How many clinics do we have in this town that do *safe* early term abortions. She could even have come here to have it done. Instead she goes to some cheap storefront clinic -- says it's all she could afford. She's lucky she passed out on the el. She was on her way to Union Station to catch a train. If she'd collapsed between stations, she might have died before she got to help."
Susan sighed again, grabbed another chart from the rack, and disappeared down the hall. Luka didn't move. He couldn't. He hadn't heard a word after "the clinic did a decent job..." Of all the possible scenarios, this was the one he had not imagined -- had not, he had to admit, *allowed* himself to imagine.
That she'd left to have the baby alone -- that she'd never been pregnant at all -- even a miscarriage, any of those he could think about, could bear. But not this.
How often had they talked about it? How many times in those few weeks had she asked him "Are you sure you want this baby, Luka?" and he'd answered her, and meant it, every time, "Yes, of course I want the baby."
For other women, other babies, he had no trouble accepting the decision. He'd long since lost count of the times he'd counseled frightened and naive young women to consider abortion. But not for his baby -- not like this.
Nicole had wanted the baby, he was sure of it. And he had wanted it.
So ... why?
A voice startled him. It was Abby. "Luka? I'm sorry."
"Yeah...." Luka said softly.
"Do you want to take a break? Get a cup of coffee or something?"
"No, I'm fine, and the board's backing up." Both were lies, of course, but Luka didn't want to talk to Abby right now. After all her initial sarcasm and doubts, how *dare* she be sympathetic now. Somehow, Luka thought, it be easier if *would* just say "I told you so."
But she said "Are you going to go up and see her later?"
"No!" The only person Luka wanted to see, to talk to, *less* than Abby right now was Nicole.
"Maybe you should. Give her a chance to give her side of it ... to explain. She must have had her reasons."
"Explain?" Luka asked bitterly. "Why should I waste my time? It would just be more lies. Besides, I'm sure she doesn't want to see me. If she'd wanted to see me, to explain, she had plenty of chances." Luka took a chart. "Now I have work to do."
TO BE CONTINUED...
"I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry. I made it all up." He poured a cup of coffee and wrapped his ice-cold hands around the sides of the cup.
No baby. He should be glad, he told himself firmly. He hadn't *really* wanted a baby with Nicole, had he? He'd just been trying to make the best of a bad situation. No, of course he hadn't wanted children with Nicole. He'd wanted children with Danjiela -- a dozen of 'em.
But it had been so long, and while it would never been the same as before -- Nicole could never be Danijela -- he could never love her that way -- they would have still been a family. There would have been children, and *that* would have been the same.
The pain in his heart was only a fraction of the agony he'd felt that day in Vukovar (and, for so many months and years afterwards), but it was sharp enough. Still ... how do you grieve for a child who had never even been conceived? Who had only been a dream from the start?
Abby, to her credit, refrained from even hinting at "I told you so," when he told her. She was nothing but kind and sympathetic.
Over the next few weeks, Luka did his best to forget Nicole -- to forget the whole miserable episode. He'd arrived home from work that day to find Nicole's few possessions gone (and a few of his as well). She was, he thought, probably already in Montreal, finding another sucker to manipulate.
Still, doubts nagged at him. She had lied so often. What if this was a lie too? What if she was still pregnant, and struggling alone in Montreal? What would happen to his baby? Nicole wasn't the most responsible of people -- Luka found it hard to care what happened to her, really, but if *she* got into trouble, if she was homeless and on the street, or on drugs, or hooked up with an abusive man -- what would happen to the baby? To *his* baby? Maybe he should take a few days off, he thought, go to Montreal, see if she was ok.
But, what if that had been a lie too? Perhaps she hadn't gone to Montreal at all. She could have gone anywhere...
So.... Luka struggled to move on with life. Again.
-----
It was a few days before Christmas. Luka had just dispoed a toddler with a sore throat when the ambulance bay doors opened. A gurney. The paramedic immediately started to give him the bullet. "Twenty-four year old woman, collapsed on the el. Heavy vaginal bleeding, temp 103, tachy at 110...."
But Luka wasn't hearing her anymore. The soft blonde hair was stringy, the familiar face pale and damp with sweat....
Nicole's eyes met his with shocked recognition. "Luka..." her voice was frantic. "I asked them not to bring me here ... they said they had to; it was the closest..."
"It's ok," Luka said. "We'll take care of you. You may have been pregnant after all, you may have..."
Nicole's eyes widened a little, and she looked around in increasing panic. "Please ... can't I have another doctor?"
"It's ok, Nicole," Luka started to say again, but Susan interrupted.
"She's right, Luka. You shouldn't be involved in this one. She knows you, " (that was Susan, ever tactful, thought Luka...) "she doesn't want you taking care of her professionally. We've got it."
Helpless, Luka watched them wheel Nicole into the trauma room. He returned to his own patients, thankful that they were all simple and routine, nothing requiring more than a small percentage of his attention. Because his mind was on Nicole every moment, running through every possible scenario.
Maybe she'd really believed she wasn't pregnant, maybe she'd been spotting, had mistaken it for a period. Perhaps the fever was unrelated to the bleeding. it was, after all, December, and if she'd been on the street ... Or maybe she'd had a missed spontaneous abortion, and had become septic ... or had been raped ...
Every time Luka passed through the halls between patients he looked into the trauma room, but he couldn't tell what was happening, except that she seemed to be stable. He didn't dare loiter by the door long enough to get a better sense of the situation.
The morning string of routine cases was broken by a hot MI and a lengthy code. When Luka finally called it, and got the chance to check on Nicole again, the room was empty.
Frantic, he started off in search of Susan, and found her at the desk.
"How's Nicole?"
"She'll be fine," Susan said lightly. "Just sent her upstairs to GYN for a few days of IV antibiotics."
"No D&C?"
"I don't think she'll need one. Doesn't look like there was any retained tissue. The clinic did a decent job in clearing everything out, they could just stand a lesson or two in sterile technique." Susan shook her head. "How many clinics do we have in this town that do *safe* early term abortions. She could even have come here to have it done. Instead she goes to some cheap storefront clinic -- says it's all she could afford. She's lucky she passed out on the el. She was on her way to Union Station to catch a train. If she'd collapsed between stations, she might have died before she got to help."
Susan sighed again, grabbed another chart from the rack, and disappeared down the hall. Luka didn't move. He couldn't. He hadn't heard a word after "the clinic did a decent job..." Of all the possible scenarios, this was the one he had not imagined -- had not, he had to admit, *allowed* himself to imagine.
That she'd left to have the baby alone -- that she'd never been pregnant at all -- even a miscarriage, any of those he could think about, could bear. But not this.
How often had they talked about it? How many times in those few weeks had she asked him "Are you sure you want this baby, Luka?" and he'd answered her, and meant it, every time, "Yes, of course I want the baby."
For other women, other babies, he had no trouble accepting the decision. He'd long since lost count of the times he'd counseled frightened and naive young women to consider abortion. But not for his baby -- not like this.
Nicole had wanted the baby, he was sure of it. And he had wanted it.
So ... why?
A voice startled him. It was Abby. "Luka? I'm sorry."
"Yeah...." Luka said softly.
"Do you want to take a break? Get a cup of coffee or something?"
"No, I'm fine, and the board's backing up." Both were lies, of course, but Luka didn't want to talk to Abby right now. After all her initial sarcasm and doubts, how *dare* she be sympathetic now. Somehow, Luka thought, it be easier if *would* just say "I told you so."
But she said "Are you going to go up and see her later?"
"No!" The only person Luka wanted to see, to talk to, *less* than Abby right now was Nicole.
"Maybe you should. Give her a chance to give her side of it ... to explain. She must have had her reasons."
"Explain?" Luka asked bitterly. "Why should I waste my time? It would just be more lies. Besides, I'm sure she doesn't want to see me. If she'd wanted to see me, to explain, she had plenty of chances." Luka took a chart. "Now I have work to do."
TO BE CONTINUED...