Bookfield, Delivery Week - Part 3

Suddenly, I felt an urgent desire to urinate. I turned to Evan and screamed over the music that I was going to the ladies room. He nodded and kept an eye on me as I headed for the back. I pushed my way through the crowd that seemed reluctant to move. I had to make body contact to force my way through. Finally I got to the ladies room, and I must have been lucky, because there was no line. I got right in and did my business, trying not to see how filthy the place was. I wiped myself with the tissue and noticed a blood stain on it. I was not having my period, so the blood was puzzling to me. Blood in my urine, I thought, why would that be? I began to feel alarmed because all I could think was that something that I didn’t understand was wrong with me. I pulled up my jeans and made my way quickly back to Evan. He looked very concerned as I told him quite frankly what the problem was. He took my hand and helped to lead me out of the bar.

When we were outside he said, “I think you might just have a bladder infection, but let me drive you to the hospital right now to get it taken care of. I’m sure it will be alright.”

I nodded thinking how secure it felt to have Evan there. He seemed to know what the problem was. I chose to believe him as we sped off to the emergency room.

It was around eleven o’clock by the time we go to the ER. I had never been to an ER before, but Evan was there and a great comfort. I don’t recall anyone else being in the waiting room, as it was late, and a week night. A nurse escorted me to a bathroom where I filled a cup with urine. There was no visible blood on the tissue this time, and, it’s just like me, I then worried that I had made a mistake and nothing was wrong.

Next the nurse took me to a separate examination room and asked me to wait. The room was completely white. White tiles on the walls, white linoleum flooring, and white ceiling. The cabinets were metal painted beige. I figured I was supposed to sit on the examining table, which was covered with a white paper sheet. There I sat. The room was cold and the fluorescent lights seemed extraordinarily bright glaring off of all the white surfaces. Time passed, and I had opportunity to worry anew. It wasn’t so much that I worried that I was deathly ill, but I worried about what painful procedure might be imposed on me.

After about a half an hour a male physician’s assistant came in. He was quite good looking.

“Hi, I’m Shawn. Could you please describe your symptoms?” he asked.

I did, and felt like maybe my story wasn’t good enough to merit being in the ER. But I had no doctor in Athens, and Evan suggested it, and seemed to know what was best.

He asked a few questions and then said, “I think we may need to do a pelvic exam.”

Suddenly, I felt suspicious because even my little bit of biology training led me to think that this exam was not needed. “Why?”

He looked flustered and quickly deferred from the pelvic. That sexist bastard just wanted to get into my pants. He told me that my urine sample was loaded with white blood cells and confirmed that I had a bladder infection. After some time he gave me the medications from the hospital pharmacy that I needed and described how I should take them. When I walked out to see Evan, he was a sight for sore eyes. It was comforting that he knew what was wrong. He took me home to the Sanders’. He kissed me sweetly good night.