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By the year 1996, Myra and Michael's relationship lasted. Against the word of many who said they would never last they proved them wrong. They still produced music with Myra having produced a new album.
Myra also convinced Michael to get a dog. Though it was more of Myra bringing the dog home without Michael knowing. Nevertheless the dog slept in the bed with them each night and a Michael warmed up to the idea.
Myra had ended up sick around the middle of May. Michael did his best to stay by her even though he was busy planning for his HIStory tour ever since the album release.
Myra mainly stayed in bed. She threw up multiple times per day which made her feel worse. She felt dizzy and even when she wasn't throwing up she felt nauseous.
Shaylynn kept her schedule clear until she felt better. Myra only hoped she she felt better soon. Even if it took weeks she wanted to be back to the studio or on stage.
Whenever he got the chance to stay home he stayed by Myra. She eventually fell asleep around noon. Michael took the opportunity to make a phone call.
The phone rang in his hand as he tapped her foot impatiently. He kept looking back to the room where she slept in case she woke up. The phone was finally answered by a woman who sounded like she smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.
"Thank you for calling Med Express. My name is Carol Hall, how can I help you?" She asked, sounding as if she was absolutely bored out of her mind.
"My wife has been sick recently and I was wondering if someone could check over here," Michael stated.
"We have an opening around four. Would that be all right?" Carol questioned.
"That would be great," answered Michael.
"If I could just get your wife's name I can schedule you in," she droned.
"Her name is Myra Jackson," he answered.
"And what's yours?" She inquired as she scribbled on to a sheet of paper.
"Michael Jackson," he repeated.
She wrote down his name with only a shrug. She thought of it only as a coincidence That he shared a name with a famous popstar.
"You're scheduled. Have a nice day," she said before the phone call was over.
Michael returned to the room where Myra was still asleep. He resumed his place beside her under the covers.
When Myra eventually woke up it was a struggle to get her dressed. She moved slowly and stumbled groggily. She eventually dressed in a pair of grass stained jeans with a Queen shirt.
Michael drove her to her docotrs appointment even though Myra had heard he was a terrible driver from Janet. She sat in the passengers seat curled up the best she could be.
When he arrived he got her from the car. She immediately sat down in a seat. Michael walked up to the counter, his glasses shielding his eyes.
"I called earlier for my wife," he said simply, catching presumably the woman he spoke to previously off guard.
After the nurse, as surprised that he was actually there and that she talked to him, notified the doctor they were there, he sat beside her. She lay across the seats, most of them empty. She moved her head to rest it on his lap as he played with her hair.
They say there for maybe twenty minutes before Myra was called back. She shuffled away from Michael in direction of the doctor. He lead her into a room where he shut the door behind him.
"If you can just sit up here we can get started," he began, gesturing to the thin paper covered bed.
She climbed up using the small footstool. She swung her legs as the doctor scribbling something on the paper. He finally turned to look at her.
"Before we start, do you mind telling me how old you are?" He asked as he peered at her through his wire frames glasses.
"Thirty-three," she answered. Her birthday was in July and it was only in the month of May.
He nodded as he wrote the number down on the paper. He put the pen down and put his sole focus on Myra.
"Okay, Mrs. Jackson, what's been troubling you?" He asked.
"I've been really sick like throwing up. I've been really dizzy and tired," Myra explained.
"Okay," he said with a nod of his head. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but when was the last time you have had sex?"
"Around a month ago," answered Myra.
She then realized what the doctor was leading on to. She wasn't a doctor herself but she was positive she wasn't pregnant. They had tried and it hadn't worked.
"I highly doubt I'm pregnant," she added quickly as she knew what he was thinking.
"I can run a blood test and see that way, but only if you agree," he recommended.
"Go ahead," she shrugged.
He soon prepared the needle. The sight of it made her terrified. He sensed her uneasiness and recommended bringing her husband in. Myra agreed.
Michael held her hand as he prepares to push the needle into her skin. She gripped it right but not enough to hurt him too much. The doctor extracted some of her blood before he removed the needle.
The small puncture wound on her arm was covered with a bandaid. She was then able to leave and he promised her the results within seven to sixteen days.
Back at Neverland Michael made her stay in bed. It wasn't like she was going to refuse. She did occasionally roam around -- either that or she read the books she had been meaning to read.
Each morning was always the same. It was mainly her throwing up what she had eaten the night before or laying in bed.
Each day seemed nervewracking as she waited for the results. Michael was curious for the results, but he just wanted Myra to be better.
