How To Raise Native Children....(On Reserve) #wattys2017

7. Ectopic

I told Delia about the last 2 weeks. There wasn't much she could do about it, it had already been and over now. But she listened and acknowledged me. I appreciated that.

I layed on the bed in one of the imaging rooms. I let the sonographer know that I had apple juice and my bladder was full. She seemed satisfied. She asked about the reason why I was sent there and why I canceled the first appointment. I told her that the time given on Monday was unrealistic. She seemed to understand and was happy I made it to this one. After forty minutes of awkward silence, the sonographer ran out of the room. I watched her. I never seen a sonographer RUN out of the room. There must be been something wrong. About 10 minutes later she came back. She wiped off my belly and started to move things around. I frowned.

"You can go empty your bladder now." She said. She was a bit of an older woman, maybe in her early or mid fifties. Her white and grey hair was curly and pinned back. Her hair didn't move as she shuffled about, agitated.

I went to the bathroom. I was happy to. When I came out, the sonographer was still there, pacing.

"You need to to go straight to the ER." She said. Her voice was a bit shakey.

I stopped walking and stared at her. "What?" I asked, meekly.

The lady walked straight over to me, with power in her strides. She grabbed my upper arms and gave them a gentle squeeze. "You HAVE to go to the ER. You walk out this door, and head straight over there. They're expecting you, so you don't have to wait in line."

I could feel the intensity behind her eyes. She was concerned for me. "I can't go home?"

"No! You MUST go to the ER!" She still squeezed my arms.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, more assertively.

"I ca......" She let my arms go and flopped her arms down. She wasn't impressed. "I'm sorry. I can't say anything. I am not a doctor. I am not allowed to give results. Please, promise me you will go to the ER." Her eyes bore through mine.

I nodded. "Okay. I promise, I'll go to the ER." I said.

The sonographer sighed. She offered a supportive smile and darted out of the room.

I was left, standing alone, in the room not knowing what just happened. My anxiety was starting to creep up. I needed a smoke.

"Oh, all done?" Delia smiled at me as I walked into the waiting area.

"Not really. I need a smoke. They scared me." I shot her a passive smile and darted out into the main hall of the hospital.

I nearly ran outside. Delia managed to keep up with me. I hadn't looked back when I was walking but she was there when I stopped outside for a cigarette.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so. The lady was asking me questions about why I was here. So, I told her. Then, when she was done, she darted out of the room, came back and told me to head straight for the ER."

Delia lost her comforting smile.

"I wasn't going in there without having a smoke first. Once I'm registered, I can't leave for a smoke. I'm sorry, but I'm going to puff away."

Delia laughed.

We talked some more about the situation. I put out my third cigarette and started for the hospital.

I was put into a separate room that had a door. I felt isolated and quarantined. The door didn't know how to stay open and the room was freezing. Delia sat with me for a while. She was off work at 4 but stayed until 4:30. I had gone into the ER at 3 pm and waited around.