"Who Would've Thought Getting Knocked Down Would End So Well?"
Tests
I have never liked the waiting room at the doctor’s office. Though its white walls hinted at supposed cleanliness and the pretentious magazines were piled neatly on the tables for my entertainment and distraction, I could not help but feel uneasy.
It had been almost a week since my birthday. I had experienced a gamut of emotions since then and to be honest, I was exhausted. Looking towards Billie Joe who sat adjacent to me on an equally uncomfortable hard, plastic seat, I realized that he too was in his own world. I noticed his hands drumming quietly on his lap; it was one of his nervous habits. Sighing deeply, I focused on the only other person in the room, the receptionist. I was hoping that she would call my name so we could get this over with. It had taken a lot of strength and courage to get to this point but if I had to wait much longer, I could not be held accountable for my acts of cowardice.
The morning after my birthday, I was the first to wake. To be honest, I had not slept much to begin with. Sprawled uncomfortably on Mike’s black leather couch, I’d tossed and turned all night and now I was exhausted. Peeling myself free from my makeshift bed for the night, I rose unsteadily. Planting my bare feet firmly on the plush beige carpet, I indulged in a much needed stretch, my arms sailing high above my head. Satiated for the moment, I proceeded to tiptoe past my friends and fiancé who were still sound asleep.
Moving silently down the hallway, I quickly reached my destination - the bathroom. Flipping the light switch and momentarily electrifying my retinas, I closed the door behind me and moved further into the room. Pulling the thin fabric of the shower curtain aside, I climbed into the bathtub. Settling onto the cold, unyielding porcelain floor, I pulled the curtain back to its original position, shrouding my chamber within a chamber. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. With closed eyes, I leaned my head against the tiled wall behind me.
I could not stop thinking about what Tre and Drew had hinted at last night. Now that I thought about it, pregnancy was a possibility. Though I tried to push the idea from my mind, it continued to resurface. Was I really ready to be a mother? How would Billie Joe react?
Releasing a small, breathy laugh, I remembered how negatively I had reacted to the possibility of a baby at first.
Minutes, possibly hours had passed while I sat in Mike’s bathtub, trying to make sense of things. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I was shaken abruptly from my slumber when Billie Joe stumbled into my fortress of solitude. His eyes were bloodshot and he was visibly ill from his very apparent hangover. I watched as my fiancé turned to observe himself in the small mirror sitting atop the sink. Resting one hand on either side of the cool porcelain of the sink, he leaned ever closer to his reflection.
Yawning loudly, it was obvious that I startled him. He moved towards the bathtub with a puzzled expression. Grabbing the icy blue curtain and pulling it aside, Billie Joe was surprised to find me fully clothed, sitting in Mike’s bathtub.
“What are you doing in the tub?” He asked, kneeling on the floor, watching me with furrowed eyebrows and an amused grin. Any other day, his confusion would have been the source of my entertainment but today, I was less than cheery. I merely shrugged, unsure of what to say or where to begin.
“Amelia, what’s wrong?” he asked, lifting my chin and encouraging me to look into his concerned eyes, eyes that had convinced me to bear my soul to him time and time again.
With a deep breath and a heavy heart, I informed him about Tre’s comment and Drew’s suspicions and told him that it was possible that I could be pregnant. I confessed to Billie Joe that I was apprehensive, scared and unprepared.
He reached for my hand. “Amelia,” he began, “you may be nervous but for me this is a dream come true. We’ve discussed having a family someday.”
“Yeah, someday” I retorted “Not today.” He flinched as though he had been slapped. Billie Joe was visibly hurt by my reaction.
“Amelia, are you saying that you don’t want to have this baby?” His sparkling green eyes were now dull, his countenance solemn.
“I just - I just expected to have more time, you know? I thought we’d plan to have a baby after we were married.”
“Amelia, life happens while you’re making plans. So what if the baby is a little earlier than planned?” He placed his hand gently across my abdomen. “This child will know love. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes that was so honest. I realized that although the timing was not perfect, it did not matter. So there, on Mike’s bathroom floor, Billie Joe and I decided to welcome the possibility of a new addition to our family.
Billie Joe and I sat in the same seats in the same waiting room for the second time in a week. The first time had involved the standard battery of tests performed when one is believed to be pregnant, involving blood and urine analysis and a description of my symptoms. The tests had been relatively painless, however, I could not say the same for the nerve-wracking wait that would follow.
It’s funny how a regular, unexciting occurrence can suddenly become your main focus in the blink of an eye. For the two days that would follow while Billie Joe and I impatiently awaited the test results, we had become obsessed with the telephone. When the shrill cry of the cordless phone made its way to our waiting ears, there would be a mad dash to indulge our electronic master. Answering on the first ring, our disappointment was evident to everyone who did not happen to be personnel from Dr. Stein’s office.
We had decided not to mention the suspicion of pregnancy to any of our friends in case it was a false alarm. Though we had now convinced ourselves that we were in fact, with child, we decided to wait before sharing the news.
To be perfectly honest, I do not remember any other activities I had performed on those days while we waited to hear from the doctor; I merely kept myself busy in one form or another. Billie Joe was nervous and excited and hoped to remain that way. I, too, had nothing on my mind other than the baby.
On day two, the piercing wail of our electronic lord alerted us once more to the possibility of news. We dashed to the kitchen, knowing that it contained the closest phone. Billie Joe reached it first. His side of the conversation was quite vague but the intensity emanating from his olive, sparkling eyes indicated that he was speaking with the doctor or her assistant.
“Ok, that’s fine. Thank you. Bye.” With a dullbeep the phone was turned off and tossed onto the centre island.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
“We have an appointment later this afternoon!”
“Yes!” I screamed, pleased that we would not have to wait much longer to get the results.
“I can’t wait.” Billie Joe spoke softly, a familiar gleam in his eyes.
The tests had finally been performed and the results had been determined. Dr. Stein stepped into the sterile white waiting room with a familiar clipboard in her hands and an unreadable look upon her face.
“Ms. Othello?” She called, beckoning for me to follow her into her office. I nodded then rose from my seat both nervous and eager about test results that possessed the ability to change our lives forever. Billie Joe rose with me and slipped his hand into mine. Comforted by the warmth emanating from his body, there was a sense of familiarity and a calmness that washed over me. After following the doctor into her office, she closed the door behind her and walked briskly toward her seat. Billie Joe and I settled into our own seats, an imposing mahogany desk between us and the doctor. Silence filled the spacious office as Billie Joe and I waited for her to speak.
“I have examined your blood work,” she said, shuffling her papers in order to reach the page she was searching for.
My heart jack hammered in my chest; I was amazed that no one else in the room seemed to notice. Billie Joe sat perched on the edge of his seat, leaning towards the doctor, hoping to receive the news he wanted to hear. I too, had warmed up to the idea.
Dr. Stein cleared her throat. “In a pregnancy test, we measure the level of human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG, in the blood and urine, which tells us if the woman is pregnant.”
“Ok.” I could not fully focus on what she was saying, I was merely waiting to hear the end result.
“Upon performing these tests, it is clear that your body is not producing this hormone.”
“So I’m not pregnant?” I asked, somewhat shocked and a little disappointed. Billie Joe slumped in his seat looking dejected.
Dr. Stein shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not.”
Nodding slowly in an attempt to let it all sink in, I suddenly felt empty. Never had the thought of a human being growing inside me been so attractive and unattainable at the same time.
Dr. Stein cleared her throat as though she had something else to say. “Once your blood analysis established that you were not pregnant, we performed additional tests in order to determine the cause of your symptoms.”
“Ok …” I trailed off, unsure of how I was expected to respond.
“You explained that you experienced weakness, fatigue, headaches, decreased appetite, swelling in the abdomen area, and other symptoms.” I nodded. Billie Joe continued to stare at the doctor, growing impatient while we waited for her reach her point.
“Ms. Othello- ”
“Amelia.” I corrected.
She nodded. “Amelia,” she corrected herself, pushing her rectangular glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. “we examined a sample of your blood under a microscope and found abnormal cells.” I was not sure I wanted to hear the rest. Nervous about what I would be told, beads of sweat began to form along my forehead.
“What does that mean?” Billie Joe asked, suddenly becoming nervous. My saline trail of perspiration began to evaporate in the cool, dry office, eliciting an involuntary shiver to emanate from my body.
“We still have to perform additional tests to confirm the diagnosis, however, it is fairly evident-”
Billie Joe was unable to contain himself. “Please doctor, cut to the chase.”
Time was at a standstill. I stared at the doctor, willing her to give me good - or at worst, mediocre - news. My breathing slowed as did everything around me. Blocking any external distractions, I focused on the woman sitting across from me; my doctor.
“Amelia, you have leukemia.”
It had been almost a week since my birthday. I had experienced a gamut of emotions since then and to be honest, I was exhausted. Looking towards Billie Joe who sat adjacent to me on an equally uncomfortable hard, plastic seat, I realized that he too was in his own world. I noticed his hands drumming quietly on his lap; it was one of his nervous habits. Sighing deeply, I focused on the only other person in the room, the receptionist. I was hoping that she would call my name so we could get this over with. It had taken a lot of strength and courage to get to this point but if I had to wait much longer, I could not be held accountable for my acts of cowardice.
The morning after my birthday, I was the first to wake. To be honest, I had not slept much to begin with. Sprawled uncomfortably on Mike’s black leather couch, I’d tossed and turned all night and now I was exhausted. Peeling myself free from my makeshift bed for the night, I rose unsteadily. Planting my bare feet firmly on the plush beige carpet, I indulged in a much needed stretch, my arms sailing high above my head. Satiated for the moment, I proceeded to tiptoe past my friends and fiancé who were still sound asleep.
Moving silently down the hallway, I quickly reached my destination - the bathroom. Flipping the light switch and momentarily electrifying my retinas, I closed the door behind me and moved further into the room. Pulling the thin fabric of the shower curtain aside, I climbed into the bathtub. Settling onto the cold, unyielding porcelain floor, I pulled the curtain back to its original position, shrouding my chamber within a chamber. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. With closed eyes, I leaned my head against the tiled wall behind me.
I could not stop thinking about what Tre and Drew had hinted at last night. Now that I thought about it, pregnancy was a possibility. Though I tried to push the idea from my mind, it continued to resurface. Was I really ready to be a mother? How would Billie Joe react?
Releasing a small, breathy laugh, I remembered how negatively I had reacted to the possibility of a baby at first.
Minutes, possibly hours had passed while I sat in Mike’s bathtub, trying to make sense of things. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I was shaken abruptly from my slumber when Billie Joe stumbled into my fortress of solitude. His eyes were bloodshot and he was visibly ill from his very apparent hangover. I watched as my fiancé turned to observe himself in the small mirror sitting atop the sink. Resting one hand on either side of the cool porcelain of the sink, he leaned ever closer to his reflection.
Yawning loudly, it was obvious that I startled him. He moved towards the bathtub with a puzzled expression. Grabbing the icy blue curtain and pulling it aside, Billie Joe was surprised to find me fully clothed, sitting in Mike’s bathtub.
“What are you doing in the tub?” He asked, kneeling on the floor, watching me with furrowed eyebrows and an amused grin. Any other day, his confusion would have been the source of my entertainment but today, I was less than cheery. I merely shrugged, unsure of what to say or where to begin.
“Amelia, what’s wrong?” he asked, lifting my chin and encouraging me to look into his concerned eyes, eyes that had convinced me to bear my soul to him time and time again.
With a deep breath and a heavy heart, I informed him about Tre’s comment and Drew’s suspicions and told him that it was possible that I could be pregnant. I confessed to Billie Joe that I was apprehensive, scared and unprepared.
He reached for my hand. “Amelia,” he began, “you may be nervous but for me this is a dream come true. We’ve discussed having a family someday.”
“Yeah, someday” I retorted “Not today.” He flinched as though he had been slapped. Billie Joe was visibly hurt by my reaction.
“Amelia, are you saying that you don’t want to have this baby?” His sparkling green eyes were now dull, his countenance solemn.
“I just - I just expected to have more time, you know? I thought we’d plan to have a baby after we were married.”
“Amelia, life happens while you’re making plans. So what if the baby is a little earlier than planned?” He placed his hand gently across my abdomen. “This child will know love. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes that was so honest. I realized that although the timing was not perfect, it did not matter. So there, on Mike’s bathroom floor, Billie Joe and I decided to welcome the possibility of a new addition to our family.
Billie Joe and I sat in the same seats in the same waiting room for the second time in a week. The first time had involved the standard battery of tests performed when one is believed to be pregnant, involving blood and urine analysis and a description of my symptoms. The tests had been relatively painless, however, I could not say the same for the nerve-wracking wait that would follow.
It’s funny how a regular, unexciting occurrence can suddenly become your main focus in the blink of an eye. For the two days that would follow while Billie Joe and I impatiently awaited the test results, we had become obsessed with the telephone. When the shrill cry of the cordless phone made its way to our waiting ears, there would be a mad dash to indulge our electronic master. Answering on the first ring, our disappointment was evident to everyone who did not happen to be personnel from Dr. Stein’s office.
We had decided not to mention the suspicion of pregnancy to any of our friends in case it was a false alarm. Though we had now convinced ourselves that we were in fact, with child, we decided to wait before sharing the news.
To be perfectly honest, I do not remember any other activities I had performed on those days while we waited to hear from the doctor; I merely kept myself busy in one form or another. Billie Joe was nervous and excited and hoped to remain that way. I, too, had nothing on my mind other than the baby.
On day two, the piercing wail of our electronic lord alerted us once more to the possibility of news. We dashed to the kitchen, knowing that it contained the closest phone. Billie Joe reached it first. His side of the conversation was quite vague but the intensity emanating from his olive, sparkling eyes indicated that he was speaking with the doctor or her assistant.
“Ok, that’s fine. Thank you. Bye.” With a dullbeep the phone was turned off and tossed onto the centre island.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
“We have an appointment later this afternoon!”
“Yes!” I screamed, pleased that we would not have to wait much longer to get the results.
“I can’t wait.” Billie Joe spoke softly, a familiar gleam in his eyes.
The tests had finally been performed and the results had been determined. Dr. Stein stepped into the sterile white waiting room with a familiar clipboard in her hands and an unreadable look upon her face.
“Ms. Othello?” She called, beckoning for me to follow her into her office. I nodded then rose from my seat both nervous and eager about test results that possessed the ability to change our lives forever. Billie Joe rose with me and slipped his hand into mine. Comforted by the warmth emanating from his body, there was a sense of familiarity and a calmness that washed over me. After following the doctor into her office, she closed the door behind her and walked briskly toward her seat. Billie Joe and I settled into our own seats, an imposing mahogany desk between us and the doctor. Silence filled the spacious office as Billie Joe and I waited for her to speak.
“I have examined your blood work,” she said, shuffling her papers in order to reach the page she was searching for.
My heart jack hammered in my chest; I was amazed that no one else in the room seemed to notice. Billie Joe sat perched on the edge of his seat, leaning towards the doctor, hoping to receive the news he wanted to hear. I too, had warmed up to the idea.
Dr. Stein cleared her throat. “In a pregnancy test, we measure the level of human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG, in the blood and urine, which tells us if the woman is pregnant.”
“Ok.” I could not fully focus on what she was saying, I was merely waiting to hear the end result.
“Upon performing these tests, it is clear that your body is not producing this hormone.”
“So I’m not pregnant?” I asked, somewhat shocked and a little disappointed. Billie Joe slumped in his seat looking dejected.
Dr. Stein shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not.”
Nodding slowly in an attempt to let it all sink in, I suddenly felt empty. Never had the thought of a human being growing inside me been so attractive and unattainable at the same time.
Dr. Stein cleared her throat as though she had something else to say. “Once your blood analysis established that you were not pregnant, we performed additional tests in order to determine the cause of your symptoms.”
“Ok …” I trailed off, unsure of how I was expected to respond.
“You explained that you experienced weakness, fatigue, headaches, decreased appetite, swelling in the abdomen area, and other symptoms.” I nodded. Billie Joe continued to stare at the doctor, growing impatient while we waited for her reach her point.
“Ms. Othello- ”
“Amelia.” I corrected.
She nodded. “Amelia,” she corrected herself, pushing her rectangular glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. “we examined a sample of your blood under a microscope and found abnormal cells.” I was not sure I wanted to hear the rest. Nervous about what I would be told, beads of sweat began to form along my forehead.
“What does that mean?” Billie Joe asked, suddenly becoming nervous. My saline trail of perspiration began to evaporate in the cool, dry office, eliciting an involuntary shiver to emanate from my body.
“We still have to perform additional tests to confirm the diagnosis, however, it is fairly evident-”
Billie Joe was unable to contain himself. “Please doctor, cut to the chase.”
Time was at a standstill. I stared at the doctor, willing her to give me good - or at worst, mediocre - news. My breathing slowed as did everything around me. Blocking any external distractions, I focused on the woman sitting across from me; my doctor.
“Amelia, you have leukemia.”