Saturday

Morphine is good

On a warm Saturday morning, my wife and I woke up to a leisurely day. I was making breakfast and she was settling in on the couch. The day would be relaxing; a nice change of pace. Typically we work opposite schedules, she juggles school as well, rarely do we have time to relax together.
After a small breakfast she began to have stomach pain. I didn’t think much of it. I don’t usually believe people when they say they have pain. I don’t know why, I just don’t. Within an hour she was doubling over in pain crying. Soon she’s telling me to take her to the emergency room. I retort “can’t you wait to see the Doctor on Monday” dreading the Emergency Room wait. Honestly, I believe she is complaining about something that will pass and we will have wasted a beautiful Saturday in the ER. Begrudgingly, I take her. Of course, we wait to be seen.
She doubles over in her chair, as if she is going to puke. I don’t believe she will actually puke. Grabbing my arm she tells me to get a bowl or bucket. I tell her to use the restroom. But it’s occupied. Of Course! I ask the nurse behind the window for a bowl. The unfriendly nurse hands me a green plastic bowl from around the corner. I take it imagining myself watch vomit slosh around and my wife telling me to empty it. This is not how I pictured my Saturday. Fortunately, the bathroom opens up and my wife rushes in, with the bowl. Thank god. I still don’t believe she is in that much pain. Maybe it’s her appendix.
Finally she gets called; we weave around behind the reception window. Behind the curtain the nurse sits my wife down in a full size hospital bed and gives her a thin knit blanket, she lies back as the nurse raises the head of the bed. They ask standard questions take her temperature and blood pressure. We wait to be seen by the ER doctor. There is no place for me to sit, so I use the doctor’s stool and wheel around trying to amuse myself. My wife is still in what seems horrible pain, but I don’t believe it could be that bad. The Doctor comes in and permits a dosage of morphine for the pain; could be appendicitis, I think to myself, but I doubt it. My wife finally calms down, must be the morphine. I’ve never had morphine, but I’m glad they gave it to her, although she probably doesn’t need it, this whole thing will probably pass. The doctor and nurses are in and out, drawing blood asking questions, time has no meaning in the ER. The nurse returns to report they have found nothing. I knew it!! One last test. An ultrasound to confirm the appendix is fine and to rule out pregnancy. We both laugh she is on birth control. “Good luck” I say. They wheel her away, in the bed. I wait sitting on the doctor’s stool. I wheel over to the counter, raise the stool to just the right height to lay my head on the counter and take a nap. She probably has the flu or food poisoning, something that will pass and we have wasted a Saturday in the ER.
I wake up to the sound of the curtain sliding open and the nurse pushing my wife in the full size hospital bed, she is sleeping. Morphine is good. I give the nurse a look, as if to ask ‘what’s the deal, nothing right? She looks at me smiling and says “looks like you are having twins!” I look at her and say “bullshit.”
She hands me the four inch by four inch black and gray sonogram picture, mostly black with that little triangle of grainy gray highlighting the area of significance. I take it not knowing what to look at the nurse notices my confusion and points to these tiny little dots the shape of a bean with the letters A and B to the side of each. “Baby A and Baby B” she says.