A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 7
"Jean?"
At the sound of her name and the gentle nudging of her shoulder, Jean opened her eyes. "Oh," she murmured, blinking up at Isabella. "I must have dozed off."
"I'm sorry to wake you. The doctor will be in in a few minutes to perform the ultrasound. I'm just going to get everything ready."
"Okay." Jean glanced to the counter on the right, in front of which stood a portable ultrasound machine: monitor, keyboard, printer, and an assortment of probes all on a wheeled cart.
"I'm going to pull down the blanket," Isabella explained as she did so, folding it over Jean's thighs. "And now I'm going to lift your gown above your abdomen." She bunched up the hospital gown, tucking it beneath Jean's breasts. "And now I'm going to place a couple of drapes." She unfolded the blue rectangular cloths and placed one on Jean's chest, tucking the other in the blanket a couple of inches below her navel. "All set."
As if on cue, the door opened and the doctor walked inside. He was tall and thin, dressed in a pinstriped shirt, dark tie, and long lab coat. His fair skin was a sharp contrast to the midnight black of his slicked-back hair, mustache, and goatee.
"Hello, Jean," he said, walking over to the bed and extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Gauche."
"Hi," she replied, lifting her left hand. "Sorry," she said, looking down at her bandaged right arm.
"No, it is I who should apologize," he said, grasping her hand between both of his. His fingers were ice cold. "How are you feeling?" he asked, feeling for the pulse in her wrist as he looked at his watch.
"My arm hurts, but other than that, I feel fine. I just want to make sure the baby is all right."
"Of course, of course. Perfectly understandable." He looked up at the nurse. "Isabella, if you will."
Nodding, Isabella wheeled the machine over to the right bedside, while the doctor pulled over a padded stool. He sat down, and made some adjustments to the equipment. "Can you see the monitor, Jean?"
"Yes." She was aware of Isabella coming to stand on her left, by her shoulder.
"All right, let's get started. I apologize in advance for this being so cold," he said, squirting a liberal dose of blue ultrasound transmission gel on her belly.
Jean shivered. "You're not kidding."
Smiling, Dr. Gauche picked up the transducer-a rectangular instrument a few inches wide-and pressed it onto her abdomen. He slowly slid it across her skin, and turned his face to look at the screen. A black-and-white blurry image appeared. He continued to move the probe, all the while making some adjustments on the keyboard, turning some knobs on the monitor. He stopped abruptly. "There it is."
Jean squinted at the screen. There was a small, roughly-circular shape that appeared to be moving quite rapidly. "That's the baby?"
"Here, let me turn on the Doppler." A very fast-paced tempo that sounded as though it were being generated underwater filled the room. "That's the baby's heartbeat."
"It's normal for it to be that fast, right?"
"Perfectly normal. I'm going to continue to scan, but thus far it looks like your baby is perfectly healthy, Jean."
"Oh, thank God." Smiling, Jean closed her eyes as tears of relief brimmed and spilled onto her cheeks. "Thank God."
"Here," Isabella said, handing her a tissue, as she smiled down at Jean.
"Thanks." She dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry if I'm so emotional. It's just, I had a miscarriage several months ago, so I'm a little paranoid about this pregnancy."
"Oh, Jean, I'm so sorry," Isabella told her.
"Did you abort in early term?" Dr. Gauche asked.
"During my first trimester, yes."
"And from this image, I'd estimate you're just over three months along?"
"Yes, that sounds about right. But that's a good sign, isn't it? That I'm already into the second trimester of this pregnancy."
"Yes, it is," he replied, continuing to stare at the monitor as he scanned her womb. "Nonetheless, Jean, given your past history, I'd recommend that we perform an amniocentesis. That way, we can be certain that everything is progressing as it should be."
"An amnio? That's where you insert a needle, right?"
"Exactly. We use the ultrasound to help us guide a needle into your uterus, to retrieve a small sample of fluid from the amniotic sac. The fluid will contain a few shed fetal cells, which can then be subjected to genetic analysis. We've got a great view of the fetus right now. I should be able to get a sample with little difficulty." He smiled at her, his teeth almost as white as his alabaster skin.
For some reason, she found that gesture to be anything but reassuring.
"I-I don't know. Can it wait?"
"It's not essential, no. But I nonetheless recommend that you have the procedure done today."
Jean looked up at Isabella, who still stood by her head. "It doesn't hurt, Jean. And it'll give you the answers you're looking for."
Jean nodded. "All right. Let's do it."
"Great. Isabella, could you grab an amnio kit, please?"
"Certainly, Doctor." She walked over to the counter, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pre-packaged plastic tray. Pulling over the mayo stand, she placed the kit on top and pulled back the paper covering.
"Okay, Jean," Dr. Gauche told her, "we now have to choose an amniocentesis site." He moved the transducer around for another minute or so until he found a good site, and then picked up a thin tube resembling a soda straw, which he gently pushed into her abdomen, leaving a small indentation on her skin. "Go ahead and scrub, Isabella," he said, walking over to the counter. As he donned a pair of sterile gloves, Isabella cleaned the site on Jean's abdomen with betadine.
Jean watched Isabella's circular hand movements as though mesmerized.
"You look nervous," the nurse said to her.
"I am."
"There's no need to be. Would you like me to hold your hand during the procedure?"
"Would you mind?"
"Not at all," Isabella replied with a smile.
"Thanks."
"All ready, Dr. Gauche," Isabella said, throwing away the used gauze and pulling off her own gloves.
"You can close your eyes if you like, Jean," Dr. Gauche suggested. "It'll all be over in a few minutes." He replaced the probe on her belly, re-checking the site to ensure that the baby had not moved.
As Isabella resumed her place at Jean's left and grasped her hand, Jean took a deep breath, and did as the doctor recommended. She squeezed Isabella's hand as she closed her eyes. She tried to relax her mind, and to think of something pleasant.
"Are you ready, Jean?" she heard Dr. Gauche say.
She opened her eyes and glanced over at him. He had picked up a syringe with a long needle and was moving toward her.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Are there usually any complications from the procedure?"
Dr. Gauche stopped in mid-motion. "You might experience some slight cramping, like gas pains, in the next day or so. You may also have a small amount of fluid leakage from the vagina-enough to make a small spot on the clothing. This is normal. If you experience any unusual symptoms-excessive fluid leakage, fever, severe cramps, or bleeding-you should let us know immediately. Now, shall we get started?" He sounded slightly impatient.
A memory assailed her then-of waking up with the front of her dress stained with blood, of pains so strong they knocked her off her feet. Lying on her kitchen floor in a pool of blood. The recollection made her shudder.
"Jean, are you all right?" She saw Isabella staring down at her, concern etched on her face. Jean could feel the beads of perspiration on her brow and upper lip.
"I . . . I can't," Jean whispered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't do this. Not today."
"As you wish," he replied, voice low, as he capped the syringe and placed it back on the tray. He pulled off his gloves with a snap as he got to his feet. "I have other patients to see. I will check back on you later." And with that, he was out the door.
"D-Did I say something wrong?" Jean asked.
"No. He's always a little . . . moody. And he doesn't like it when people defy his orders."
Jean's brow furrowed. "His orders?"
Isabella flushed. "You know, his treatment orders. His recommendations. Man's a control freak."
"Oh. I didn't mean to upset him."
"He'll get over it. But he's not what's worrying me right now. Are you okay? I was afraid you were going to pass out on me."
"I'll be all right. I just . . . I can't do anything to endanger this baby. After what happened during my previous pregnancy, I don't want to take any chances."
"That's perfectly understandable." Isabella gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "You heard what he said, though-your baby appears perfectly healthy. That should make you very happy."
"It does," Jean said with a small smile.
"Well, let's get you cleaned up," Isabella said, using one of the drapes to wipe off the remaining gel from Jean's abdomen before lowering her gown and replacing the blanket. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Would you be able to call home for me? Try to get in touch with my husband, Scott?"
"Sure. Let me just grab a pen," the nurse said, reaching into her pocket. She scribbled down the numbers Jean recited. "I'll go try him now. I'm sure you're eager to have him here."
Jean nodded. "Were you able to find out anything about Bobby?"
Isabella stiffened. "There's, uhm, no word yet. I'm sorry."
"But you'll keep checking?"
"Of course."
Jean yawned. "Suddenly, I can barely keep my eyes open."
"Well, how about you get some sleep? And when you wake up, I'll see about getting you some real food-not that liquid sugar," she said, gesturing at the fluid bag.
"That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Isabella, for taking such good care of me. Of us," she added, palming her belly.
The young nurse smiled at her. "It's my pleasure."
End Chapter 7