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The last couple of hours have been a blur of activity. I’m attached to monitors and IVs, and no one has told me what is happening. Nurses have been in and out, and all they tell me is the doctor will see me soon and that everything is okay.
Visitors aren’t allowed since the doctor hasn’t okayed them yet. So, I’m lying here alone. Alone and scared. And no one will tell me what’s going on.
I’m mortified when I think about what happened at Ethan’s home today. He hates me. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. I can’t believe I allowed him to see me like that, weak and needy. And all of the medical personnel coming in and out of his condo. He must have hated that.
I’m trying to sit up to get out of bed when I hear the door to my room creak open. Ethan stealthily slides his body into the room and silently closesthe door behind him. He seems relieved when he sees me because his mouth curves upward when he catches my glance.
I’m still mad at him for how he talked to me and embarrassed by having to be wheeled out of his apartment, but I’ve never seen a more welcome sight. Maybe he knows what’s going on.
He stops by my bed. “Oh my God, Liz. I’ve been so worried about you. The only thing they would tell me was that you were waiting to see the doctor. I demanded that they let me in to see you, but they wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t even tell me what room you were in since I’m not family.”
He takes my hand and kisses my cheek.
I push aside my anger and feel my eyes watering from the kindness in his voice. “Ethan, I’m so sorry for what happened at your home. I hope nothing was damaged.”
“Liz, I don’t give a damn about my condo. I only care that you’re okay.”
He seems so sincere that I almost believe what he’s saying.
“Knock, knock. Okay, if I come in?” says a friendly female voice from the doorway.
I breathe a sigh of relief, finally. My ob-gyn made it. “Dr. Landon! I’m so happy to see you.”
The doctor bustles in, reading my vitals as she walks toward me. She’s carrying a vase of pretty red roses with white tulips and a note sticking from the top. She puts them on the table by my bed. She looks up and smiles kindly. “The nurses asked me to bring these flowers to you. They were sitting at the check-in desk for you. How are you feeling?”
“Honestly, not great. I haven’t been told anything since I got here. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Her face shows empathy. “Oh no, I apologize for that! It’s my fault. I told the nursing staff I was on the way and wanted to speak to you personally. Right when I got here, I was called into an emergency and just now had a second to take a break.”
I stamp down my frustration. Knowing she had my best interest in mind keeps me from commenting. Ethan, however, has no problem speaking up.
“She’s been waiting a while to find out what’s going on. We need to know what happened,” he demands.
“Of course,” Dr. Landon agrees. “And who are you?”
“I’m Ethan Anders, Liz’s friend,” he says, straightening his back to his full height. The authority in his voice doesn’t give any room for argument. Dr. Landon raises her eyebrows. I know she probably has questions about Ethan. She knows a father isn’t in the picture, and I’ve never had a male attend my appointments with me.
“Are you okay with Mr. Anders being here for this discussion?” Dr. Landon inquires. Her impartial medical persona is back in place. She might be curious, but she’s keeping her questions to herself.
Am I okay with Ethan being here? I’m not entirely sure. He doesn’t even believe the baby is his. I cast a glance at him. His alert and rigid stance tells me he would be uncooperative if told to leave.
Against my better judgment, I agree. “Yes, I’m okay if he stays.”
“Very well.” She takes a look at her notes and then pulls up a stool to sit beside me. “You have a common condition in pregnancy called gestational diabetes. Do you know what that is?”
“She’s not diabetic,” Ethan interjects.
Dr. Landon raises an eyebrow at his interruption but doesn’t comment.
“Yes, I do know about gestational diabetes. I took a test for it over a month ago, and I was told I’d need to retest due to the results. So, I retested and did blood work in your office a couple of days ago.”
She nods in agreement. “Yes, you did. The test you recently did was the glucose tolerance test. We actually just got the results back, and it confirms that you have gestational diabetes. Normally, the glucose test would have been run weeks ago. However, you canceled your previous two appointments, if you remember?”
If the doctor intends to make me feel guilty, it’s indeed working.
“Yes, I remember. I had meetings that couldn’t be rescheduled.”
“I understand,” she says. “It’s possible that we may not have caught this on a sooner test anyway. However, going forward, you’ll need to ensure you keep all appointments as we must stay on top of this.”
