1
FALLON
“Ma’am, your insurance is coming up as ‘inactive’, do you have another card we can try?” I’m pulled out of my foggy thoughts by the nurse's sweet voice. I look up, taking in her pale blue scrubs and graying hair. Her badge readsPam, but I’m sure I won’t remember in ten minutes.
“What?” I ask, not totally understanding.
She repeats herself.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s the only insurance I have. What does it mean if it’s inactive?”
“It could be that the policy is expired, or you didn’t pay the premium. Something like that,” she explains. The pity in her eyes makes me think she might know something I don’t.
“My…” I swallow hard. “My husband, he’s the one in charge of insurance. We get it through his work. I can’t reach him though. He’s on a business trip,” I explain.
She nods, reaching out to take my hand, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’ll tell registration to run it again. Maybe they entered the number wrong.”
I avert my gaze to my lap, where her wrinkled hand is clasped in mine. “Okay,” I reply. She gives my hand one final squeeze, leaving me alone in the cold, brightly lit room.
Brad, my husband, should be here with me. Instead, he’s away on one of his frequent business trips. I’m alone, dealing with something no woman should ever have to deal with. When I started spotting this morning, I called the nurse line right away, and they didn’t seem worried at all, telling me to monitor it and to come in if it got worse.
We’d been trying to get pregnant for so long after Presley was born, wanting so badly to have a sibling for her to grow up with, but after four years and no luck, I figured it wouldn’t happen. Then a few weeks ago, I felt crummy, and Brad suggested I take a test.
The shock I felt when it came up blazing positive was soul lifting. Brad seemed so happy when I came out of the bathroom, holding the stick with a giant smile on my face. Things seemed to be coming together.
After we found out I was pregnant again, he became the most attentive husband, like he was after we first got married. We’ve been married eight years, so yes, there have been rough times and fights, but that’s normal in any marriage. Work has been so stressful for him as of late, and his attentiveness has faded over the years with his parents hounding him to move up in his company, to be the head honcho. They expected greatness from him which he wasn’t delivering, so he had to step up his game, at the expense of his personal time, unfortunately.
I do what I can to be a good wife and support him through the hard times at work. I make sure the house is clean, and Presley is happy when he gets home from work every night. I take care of him, and I love him. He is my husband, the person I want with me through thick and thin.
I lay my head back on the stiff, crinkly hospital pillow. Why isn’t the insurance active? I brought Presley in for her well-child check a few weeks ago, and everything was fine. I pull my phone out from under my leg, careful of the IV lines. I bring up his contact, pressing the call button. It rings, and rings, and rings. I have no idea if he will answer the phone. I haven’t heard his real voice in just over a week since he called me after landing in Orlando. All I’ve received are scattered texts, letting me know he’s busy with the conference and that he’ll call when he can. Something’s off, but I can’t place it.
In the past, when he’s gone to conferences, he’s been responsive, making sure to call and text all the time. That’s why I’ve never really minded when he leaves to attend them. He goes to one every few months, and usually one or two of his colleagues go with him. There was only one other instance a few months ago when he had to extend a trip, but even then, he apologized for weeks following.
I’m not surprised when his voicemail picks up. “You’ve reached Bradley Douglas, leave me a message, and I’ll call you back when I can.” His familiar voice momentarily eases the anxiety, but then it ramps up again. What kind of CPA conference is so busy he can’t spend five minutes on the phone every night with his wife and daughter?
“It’s me. Again,” I say, my voice rising with irritation. “Please, call me, Brad. I’m worried and I need you.” I press the button to end the call, closing my eyes again. A knock on the door pulls me out of my self wallowing, and the doctor walks in with a grim look on his face. He glances down at his clipboard containing what I assume are my lab results.
And then he speaks the words I never wanted to hear.
My heart breaks, the pain cracking and shattering meinto pieces. A nurse sits by my side with my head resting on her shoulder as they prep me for the procedure, holding my hand, keeping the shattered pieces of me together.
“Should we try to call your husband again?” she asks. “Or is there maybe someone else you want to call?”
I shake my head into the crook of her neck. “No, but I should call the person who is watching my daughter. Let her know what’s going on.”
When we were house hunting, Brad chose where we were going to live, not giving me a say, or listening to my desire to be closer than an hour from my mom. I fought him hard on it, knowing I would need my mom after I gave birth to Presley, and knowing his parents wouldn’t support us the way my mom would. In the end, I gave in to his desires. He is the one who brings in most of the money, so he made it known that it was his choice. Situations like these are exactly why. When I determined I needed to go to the hospital, I dropped Presley off at her friend’s house. I know the mom, Sarah, well enough but we aren’t super close.
Now, I’m stuck at the hospital, with no way to get home as I’m sure they won’t let me drive myself following the procedure. My mom is on a cruise, though I know if I called her she’d move hell and high water to get to us, but I won’t put that kind of stress on her. I could call Sarah, but… I don’t know. I told her I was having pain, but had brushed it off as kidney stones at the time. I’m not sure I want to say the truth out loud yet. Sarah and her husband are both nice. I trust them with Presley, so I know I could trust her with this. Though I would rather have someone Iknow.
My best friend, Megan, is a doctor in a small town, but she’s over an hour away from here. No one even knows I’m pregnant.
Was pregnant.
I lean back, wiping at the tears under my eyes. With shaky hands, I look at the time, realizing it’s about Presley’s bedtime. I press the call button and Sarah picks up right away.
“Hey, how are you?” Sarah asks.
I sniffle. “I’m okay. I need to have a procedure, but I wanted to check in on Pres.”
