Silent Agony
“I understand the baby is no longer alive.”
The doctor’s words rolled toward me like a slow but unexpected wave. I removed the cool, wet cloth from my head, but I could barely open my eyes to look at him. Josh had gotten a nurse to turn off the lights above my bed hours ago. Still, the migraine persisted. After vomiting multiple times, the nausea had waned — at least for now.
The nurses told me they couldn’t give me any pain medication before anesthesia. My surgery had been scheduled for 2 pm. Now, it was well after 5, and I didn’t know how much longer I could deal with the pain. My frustration had given way to helplessness, but it hurt too much to cry.
I looked past the doctor, over to Josh, who was sitting on a stool in front of a blue curtain. Josh looked back at me, shook his head, and shrugged but didn’t say anything. My head had been pounding so intently for so long, I could barely think. “The…baby?” I asked, confused.
A nurse came up behind the doctor, touching his elbow lightly. “Not this patient,” she said quietly. “The patient over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room.
“Oh,” he replied, unperturbed. He looked back down at me. “What are you here for?”
I had met with this man numerous times, and he never seemed to know who I was or what I needed. I just have to get through…
