The Baby Problem

The Baby Problem [8.]

We had just pulled over for the third time to let me spill my guts on the side of the road. Thankfully, he had always been going slow and was able to pull over fast enough for me to get out and away from the car.

I had reclined the seat down far enough where I felt like I was lying down, and I closed my eyes trying to calm my body down. I wasn’t supposed to be getting this sick already, was I? I was only around 3 almost 4 weeks along, give or take. My ten days would be filled with internet research and the doctor’s office, because I was not enjoying not understanding what was going on.

“How are you feelin’?” Chance asked, I felt the road bump a little and the car make a left turn.

“Like shit.” I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

He sighed. “Just relax and let me know if you need me to pull over.”

“Can do.” I threw my arm over my eyes, blocking out some more of the sunlight. The car turned a couple of times again before it finally stopped and he put it in park.

“Thanks for taking me home..” I mumbled, still with my arm over my eyes.

“I didn’t take you home.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and I heard him get out of the car.

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. I was sure he didn’t hear me though. I held the button on the side of the seat and felt myself going up to face…

A hospital.

“You need something; you got sick like three times. And if it’s just a stomach bug, then you can yell at me.” Chance said, as he opened my door and unhooked my seatbelt. “Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?” He was completely serious.

I almost thought about asking him if he should be admitted here, because this was really… not Chance like.  “No I can walk.” I said with more force than I wanted to.

Even though I said I could walk just fine, he grabbed my arm and helped me out of his SUV, guiding me like a five year old.

As we walked through the electric sliding glass doors, a sense of panic erupted in me. Chance had brought me to a hospital, a place where he could very well find out about… me. The thought alone shocked me.

He saw I wasn’t very responsive, I’m sure, and started talking to the receptionist. “My friend has been getting sick…” I tuned him out, already knowing everything he was saying, and more.

Instead, I focused on the receptionist. She wasn’t anything that stood out in my mind, but hearing her maroon manicured nails tap the desk in a rhythm brought me to analyze her nails to the point of no return. I wanted to tell her that her manicurist wasn’t doing such a good job or that she should be more careful with her nails, because there were cracks in some of the polish.

“Dawn? Hello?” I was out of my reverie of how her nails were in need of a touch up, and brought back to an over worried Chance.

I looked up at him, “What?”

“She asked if you have insurance.”

“Yeah, Blue Cross.”

“Do you have the insurance card on you?” The receptionist asked.

“Is this really necessary? Can’t we see a doctor first and then fill out all the paperwork?” Chance butt in before I had the chance to reply.

“It’s fine, Chance. I have a card. Why don’t you go wait over there?” I nodded my head towards the sitting area, hoping I was sly enough to keep him out of the examination room.  While he pondered my idea, I fished my wallet out of my pocket and pulled out my insurance card. Dad had be smart to let me have a copy of it.