THE NARRATIVE ARC
An Abortion Saved My Life in Cambodia
The knowledge of imminent death terrified me
The pain was so bad I bent at the waist, gripping the table. At the front of the room, I told my students, “You are excused. I’m sorry, I’m very sick. I need to leave now.” The Cambodian staff of Hotel InterCon looked worried. Unbeknownst to me, the ectopic pregnancy in my left fallopian tube was killing me. I was in serious medical trouble and without fast care, I would die.
While I usually rode moto taxis in Phnom Penh, the hotel got me a taxi. Once at my city apartment in Phnom Penh, I crawled up the spiral staircase. I lay on the cold tile floor and phoned Dr. Scott, my British doctor. He heard the terror in my voice.
Was I dying? Something was terribly wrong.
My face was chalky white and I was cold and weak. My lower abdomen felt paralyzed with pain. No physical position was comfortable. Polly, my friend, came into the room. I lay on my back staring at the ceiling. She gasped, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said.
My husband slept. As publishers, we kept odd hours. My work was done selling ads and writing copy, and he formatted our new magazine. Awake until 2 a.m., he needed sleep. I wasn’t thinking as I…
