Whatever sedative they gave me, it was effective, and fast. I’m not exactly sure how my feet got into the stirrups, but I did feel a weird second of panic once I was there. I’ve always hated that part of doctor visits, the feeling of being completely exposed and vulnerable. With the drugs working in my system, I no longer felt calm and sure of my decision, but paranoid and freaked out.
“Neil?” I asked, and I sounded drunk.
“Right here.” He lifted my hand to his lips.
“Just relax, Sophie,” Dr. Jacobson said mildly, and her lack of concern calmed me. She sounded so blasé, it made me feel like this wasn’t a big deal after all.
“Here’s the speculum,” she said, just an instant before the plastic touched me. My stomach turned over.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I mumbled, and in a blink Julie was there with an emesis basin. But I didn’t throw up after all. Embarrassed, I slurred, “Sorry, I’m just nervous.”
“That’s okay, sometimes the drugs can make you a little sick to your stomach, too. You wouldn’t be the first person to throw up in the office,” Julie assured me. She handed the basin to Neil, and he took it with his free hand and held it in his lap.
“That’s what you get. You helped put me here; you get to hold my vomit bucket.” I turned my head, and the room took a second to reorient itself. I had a vague, far off thought, You should never tell Holli about this stuff, because she’ll want to try it. “Promise you’ll still love me if I barf.”
“I will even hold your hair back.” He lifted my hand and kissed it.
I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes drifting closed under the effect of the sedative. Every minute seemed drawn out, but the initial confusion and panic had given way to an odd feeling of blankness. I was my own calm little center of the universe.
“Okay, you’re going to feel a little pinch,” the doctor warned.
My fingers crushed Neil’s, and I practically climbed off the table. Little pinch my ass!
After that, I couldn’t feel anything. I gripped Neil’s hand super hard, and I heard myself saying things like, “ow,” but if anything hurt, it was news to me. I heard comforting words from Neil, and Julie and Dr. Jacobson telling me I was doing a good job and it was nearly finished, but mostly I just drifted in a weird pink sedative haze. Everything was happening over there, and everyone was making far too big a deal about it. But it did seem to take a long time.
“All right,” I heard Dr. Jacobson say cheerfully. “You’re all finished, Sophie. Julie is going to help you to recovery.”
Neil sat me up, and I leaned against him as I stepped into my panties. Julie got me a super huge sanitary pad and helped me to maneuver it into place— a job that really needed a woman’s touch, anyway— and Neil held me up as I shuffled drunkenly to another room, where a hospital bed waited.
“Neil?” I asked, swimming above the medicine haze for a moment. And when I tried to remember what I was going to say, all I could do was cry. “Do you hate me?”
He was beside me in an instant, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull me into his arms. “No, no. Never. I don’t want you to ever think that.”
“Right now it’s the sedation,” Julie said with gentle authority. “But you’re gonna have mood swings like this for the next couple of days as your hormones even out.”
“Thank you,” Neil told her, but I suspected he knew why I was upset. He held me while Julie took out my IV, a process I hated almost as much as having the damn thing put in, because I had to think about the tube coming out of my vein. When she left the room, I blinked up at Neil.
“You’re not mad that I killed your baby?” Wow, you can take the girl out of Catholicism, but you can’t take the Catholicism out of the girl. It was almost like I was on drugs or something.
“No, Sophie, I am not mad. Not about anything.”
Neil half-sat, half-lay with me against the bed’s slightly elevated head. I leaned on him, ignoring my dry mouth and my swimming brain. I thought of all the women I’d helped harass outside of Planned Parenthood when I was in high school. I felt like such a hypocrite.
“You know, I used to protest this shit,” I blurted. “I wasn’t on the right side. Pictures of dead babies, and... shouting at girls.”
His arm tightened around me. “And I used to vote for the Conservative Party. We all do stupid things in our youth.”
The doctor came in and gave us post op instructions— I was so grateful Neil was there for those, because I was too groggy to remember— then she checked my bleeding and sent us on our way. When I saw the clock on our way out, I realized we had only been there for three hours.