Dallas, Texas
August 1979
"I want it gone!" Sue Ellen shouted, her voice trembling with fury and desperation.
"Mrs Ewing! Enough with the hysterics. Please, stop! Otherwise, we'll have to restrain you!" the night orderly snapped, his tone sharp and unyielding.
Sue Ellen froze for a moment. Hysterical. She had been called that so many times in her life. In the past, she would have bristled at the accusation, rejecting it outright. But now? Now, she felt the word fit her perfectly.
"I'm not the problem!" she shot back, her voice cracking.
She tried to move further into her small, sparse room, desperate to put some space between herself and the others. But before she could retreat, the orderly's firm grip clamped down on her arm. True to his word, he restrained her, holding her in place.
"Let's try and keep our voices down," he said, his voice low but insistent.
"I can't," she replied, her throat dry and scratchy.
Her cheeks were wet with tears, her mouth sticky from crying. She was beyond exhausted. But still, something burned within her, a flickering ember of determination. She wasn't going to be defeated this time. Jock Ewing had hurt her too many times before. She wouldn't allow herself to be reminded of him every day, not through carrying, birthing, and raising his offspring.
"Tell me," the orderly said, his grip loosening slightly, "why are you throwing yourself against the wall?"
Without waiting for an answer, he guided her toward her bed and sat her down on its edge. He waved over the night nurse, signalling her to take over now that the immediate danger seemed to have passed.
"I want it gone," Sue Ellen muttered, her voice hoarse. "Just get rid of it. I don't care who does it."
The nurse crouched beside her, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she feared Sue Ellen might shatter at any moment. "Get rid of what?" she asked gently.
Sue Ellen turned to her, her eyes filled with raw pain. "This parasite inside me."
For so long, she had denied it. But once she'd felt it move, the reality had hit her like a freight train. It was real now, too real. And she wanted no part of it.
"Are you feeling ill?" the nurse asked, her voice still soft.
"I always feel ill," Sue Ellen replied, the weight of her misery sinking her shoulders.
"I'll get the doctor," the nurse said, standing up.
Sue Ellen didn't even nod, her body too drained to offer much more than a faint acknowledgment. She collapsed back onto the mattress, her mind spinning as she stared at the ceiling. Let the doctor come. Let them fix this. If they couldn't, she would handle it herself.
"She's measuring well into the second trimester, but the dates she's giving us don't quite align," said Doctor Rogerson.
"My wife has been through a lot. What can we do to resolve this?" JR asked.
"Mrs Ewing has made her wishes quite clear. Professionally, I support her. The initial experience was traumatic, and I fear the consequences of carrying through with this might be detrimental to her mental health."
"I agree," JR replied. "Do I need to contact anyone, or can you arrange a referral?"
"Either option works. I can't make the final decision, that has to come from Mrs Ewing and her obstetric physician, but I can recommend someone to help."
"As long as it's what Sue Ellen wants, please go ahead."
Listening in on the call between JR and Doctor Rogerson, Jock felt his hands grow clammy and his heart pound. The news hit him with a rush of conflicting emotions.
Sue Ellen was carrying the greatest gift a man could receive, yet she seemed incapable of appreciating what a privilege and joy that was. Her time at Brooktree appeared to have done little good, leaving her decision-making fragile. If JR and Doctor Rogerson were to be believed, Sue Ellen didn't want to bear his young, although he knew better than to believe that.
She'd borne John Ross, and John Ross deserved a sibling, Sue Ellen herself had said so. He'd ensured that wish would come true, and now she was wavering. It was clear her mind wasn't sound, worsened by the company she kept.
She needed help, his help, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure the next few months unfolded according to plan.
"I'm sorry, the data isn't conclusive," Doctor Peterson said, his tone measured but firm. "With possible conception dates being early April or early May, the gestation could be anywhere from nineteen to twenty-four weeks. I wouldn't feel comfortable making the call to perform the procedure at the potential late gestation, nor am I willing to risk my license or your health to do so."
JR didn't care much for Doctor Peterson, but he could admit the man was just doing his job, albeit under difficult circumstances. Sue Ellen's refusal to allow an examination had left them with little more than guesswork. The only guide they had were the dates JR had been away on business and Sue Ellen's fragmented, pained recollections. Without solid test results or measurements, they were stuck in a state of suspicion and assumptions.
"I want another doctor," Sue Ellen said abruptly, her voice trembling.
She gripped his hand tightly, her desperation palpable. He couldn't blame her; this was far from the outcome either of them had hoped for.
Doctor Peterson nodded, his expression unchanging. "Very well. I can tell you now, any decent doctor is going to tell you the same thing."
"It's my right," Sue Ellen snapped, her voice edged with defiance.
"In the second trimester, yes. In the third, no," Doctor Peterson replied calmly, though his clinical detachment grated on JR's nerves.
If he had to make arrangements out-of-state or even abroad, he would. JR would do whatever it took to rid Sue Ellen of her distress, and, if he were honest with himself, to ease his own gnawing anxiety. What had happened was horrific enough; now this latest development threatened to upend everything.
"I was put in this situation against my will and had no knowledge of what was going on until very recently," Sue Ellen said, her voice rising with frustration.
"This is an examination room, not a courtroom," Doctor Peterson interjected, clearly weary of the tension.
JR could see the man was fed up, but the lack of urgency and bedside manner was unacceptable. Enough was enough.
"So stop making judgments based on the law of the land and start making them based on what's best for your patient," JR said, his voice sharp and commanding. "My wife is in a state she doesn't wish to be and shouldn't have to be. We want this problem dealt with and will do whatever it takes to make that happen."
He stood strong, his determination breaking through the doctor's detachment. It wasn't exactly the result they'd come for, but JR knew when to press and when to bide his time. For now, they'd have to settle for the bare minimum.
"I'm sorry," Doctor Peterson said with a sigh. "I can write a referral, that's all."