Against the clock

26.

Another week had passed, and the pregnancy symptoms were intensifying. Morning sickness, or rather, all-day sickness, had become my constant companion. I couldn't keep anything down, and the mere thought of certain foods triggered an immediate response from my rebellious stomach. Nausea seemed to strike at the most inconvenient times, whether I was in the middle of a meeting, trying to focus on my classes, or attempting to enjoy a meal. It felt like a never-ending battle, and the constant queasiness was beginning to take its toll.

I was sitting in my neurology class from Dr. Shepherd and I was not feeling great. I had been sick all day, but the cookies I ate 10 minutes ago were about to come out. As Dr. Shepherd carried on with his lecture, I clung to the edge of my desk, desperately hoping the queasiness would pass. The pressure intensified, and with each passing moment, the urge to escape grew stronger. Dr. Shepherd's voice became distant as I discreetly rose from my seat, making my way towards the exit. The hallway offered a brief respite, but I hope it only a few people saw me leave.

Leaning against the wall, I took a moment to collect myself, the distant murmur of the lecture echoing through the closed door. Though nothing had come out yet, the impending urge lingered, a ticking time bomb of discomfort. Suddenly, the door swung open again, revealing Dr. Shepherd. Panicking, I instinctively put my hand over my mouth, whispering urgently, 'Go back inside. Don't let them think weird things about us!' The last thing I wanted was to become the center of attention again, especially with him following me outside with our history. Everyone had seen the video. Everyone knew. 

Derek, with a concerned look on his face, held up his hands in a reassuring manner. 'I am just checking if my student is okay. I saw you rush out, and I wanted to make sure you're alright,' he explained, his tone gentle. 'No I am not okay, I am going to puke' I said, taking a deep breath. Derek's concern deepened as I admitted my discomfort. 'I'm sorry - for that' he replied awkwardly. 'Is there anything I can do to help?' he asked, concern etched on his face. 'There's really nothing you can do, Derek. This is my mess to deal with,' I confessed, feeling the weight of the situation.

Derek furrowed his brow, a hint of realization crossing his face. 'Why do you keep saying it's your mess? It's our mess' he stated, concern and curiosity evident in his voice. I took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. 'I... I don't want to assume anything, Derek. I just don't want to drag you into something that might not be your responsibility,' I explained, choosing my words carefully. After those words escaped my lips, a sudden and uncontrollable wave of nausea seized me. Without warning, I found myself hastily gathering my hair into my hands, and rushed over to the nearest bin. The sound of puking filled the air, punctuating the gravity of the moment. Derek, not knowing exactly how to help, placed a reassuring hand on my back. The mixture of emotions—uncertainty, discomfort, and an unexpected connection—hung thick in the atmosphere. 'It's almost 8 PM, why are you still vomiting?' Derek asked with a furrowed brow, genuine concern etched across his face, as I found myself doubled over, enduring another wave of nausea.

Between breaths, I managed to explain, 'I've been sick like this all day, every day. It's not just a morning thing.' The exhaustion in my voice mirrored the weariness of my body, grappling with an unrelenting barrage of sickness. Derek's concern deepened, and he offered a sympathetic look. 'Have you seen a doctor about this?' I shook my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. 'No I don't have an OB.' Derek nodded thoughtfully, 'I could prescribe you something if you wanted to' I hesitated, then managed a weak smile. 'No, it's fine. Just need to tough it out until I make a decision.' Derek's expression reflected a mix of understanding and concern. 'You know I am here to support you right? Whether it's through prescriptions, finding a doctor for you, or just being someone to talk to.'

Amidst the lingering discomfort, Derek's genuine concern resonated. As I straightened up, his words lingered in the air, offering a reassuring presence in the midst of the turmoil. 'I appreciate that, Derek,' I managed, a grateful smile breaking through the weariness. 'There's actually something you could help me with.' Derek nodded, his concern evolving into attentiveness. 'What do you need?'