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His face falls, and a red flush creeps up his neck. Not a good sign. It means he’s about to tell me something I won’t like. I don’t know what bugs me more: that he’s about to deliver a piece of bad news or that I can still read him as if we’d only seen each other yesterday.
“You can’t reschedule,” he informs me.
“Excuse me?”
“The check-up is mandatory, for the clinic and insurance—both yours covering the treatment and ours against medical malpractice.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to do the check-up, but I want to do it with my doctor, tomorrow.”
John massages his nape with a hand. “Sorry, Mari—ssa. But the ultrasounds have to be performed at specific days in your cycle.”
“Schedule me as the first appointment in the morning. I’m sure twelve hours won’t make a difference.”
“I’m afraid it does. For insurance reasons, it’s either today or you have to interrupt the treatment.”
I blink at him. “What are you saying?”
Now his entire face flushes. “That either I visit you now, or you have to start fresh next month.”
“Can’t another doctor substitute Dr. Townsend?”
“No, all my colleagues are attending the same convention today.”
“All of them?”
He nods. “And from a medical viewpoint, I’d strongly advise against voluntarily stopping treatment mid-cycle for no reason. It could have consequences on your—”
“No reason?” I hiss. “No reason? How about I’m not comfortable with my substitute doctor?”
“Look, it doesn’t make me feel great either.” John rubs the back of his neck again and I want to smack him across the face.
But I’d rather not lose my cool in front of him. My dignity has suffered enough blows today.
Also, I’ve already had too many firsts for one day. First time I see Johnny in sixteen years. First time we talk after the breakup. I don’t want to add “first time I show him how much he hurt me” to the list.
“And if the circumstances were different, I’d gladly step aside. I get the situation is less than ideal, but I can be professional if you want to proceed.”
My brain spins with the implications of what he just said. I can’t give up the treatment. Not because of the insurance. It’s nice that my work insurance from WeTrade, the FinTech start-up I’m COO at, covers the entire IVF process. If I dropped out voluntarily, they’d probably refuse to pay for a second cycle, but I could afford the treatment on my own. It’s all the medical stuff I don’t want to have to repeat. I think of all the blood tests, preliminary check-ups, and hormone shots I’ve already given myself. The idea of having to start fresh next month is daunting.
But I also don’t want to be naked in front of Johnny Raikes or have him rummage in my private parts.
We stare at each other in loaded silence as I try to decide. When I can’t, I admit to myself I need more information.
“What would today’s visit include?”
“I’d have to…” John swallows—so much for being professional. “Err… give you a physical exam and then check your ovaries with the ultrasound.”
“And by physical exam, you mean?”
“Palpate your abdomen and pelvis… err… from within.”
I sit on the chair, trying to process, and hug the coat close to my body. “And we can’t skip that part.”
“I’m afraid not,” he confirms.
“I understand.”
“If it helps you decide, the whole thing won’t take more than ten minutes. And I can sign a form for HR, stating we know each other and are not comfortable with a doctor-patient relationship, so this won’t happen in the future.”
