In the end, it’s another twenty minutes before a female doctor steps into the room, a clipboard in her hand. She scans the sheet on the board quickly before looking up.
“Amanda Simmons?”
My own name penetrates my consciousness and I jerk out of the half-asleep dozing that I fell into, still oddly tired despite a full night’s rest. I blink for a moment, my body automatically pulling me to my feet.
“Come with me, please,” the doctor says politely when she notices that I’m standing.
She turns and walks down the hallway. I lurch after her, yawning widely and rubbing my eyes. That short power nap has just made me feel ten times worse.
“So, what can I help you with?” Doctor Dias asks as we enter her room, closing the door behind us.
I study her. I’m a little anxious about not seeing a doctor I’m used to, especially at a last-minute appointment like this one, but Doctor Dias has turned to face me, her expression open and expectant.
“I haven’t been
feeling well the last few days,” I say, relaxing slightly. “I’ve been vomiting, and I’ve felt really tired.”
Doctor Dias frowns.
“May I check your temperature and blood pressure?” she asks.
I nod and she wheels her chair toward me. I watch as she wraps a piece of material around my arm and her eyes are locked on the blood pressure machine as she pumps it up. Then she puts a thermometer in my ear.
“Temperature is quite high,” she comments. “And your blood pressure is a little lower than I would expect. Have you been getting any pain?”
“Back pains, mostly,” I say, stretching and wincing slightly as my back twinges. “Some headaches and cramps, too.”
The doctor pauses.
“Any unusual cravings?” she asks carefully.
“No,” I say, startled, then I blink. “Well, actually, I ate beetroot out of the can yesterday because I really wanted it. I felt sick after, though.”
Doctor Dias nods. Her expression has cleared of some of her concern.
“Well, we can do some blood tests to be sure, but have you considered the possibility that you might be pregnant?” she asks.
The suggestion is so ridiculous that it startles a laugh out of me.
“No, not at all,” I assure her. “My partner and I have been very careful. There’s no possible…”
I trail off as a memory strikes me. Of course, two weeks ago, on our first date, we got tipsy at the bar and found a hotel for the second time. I remember thinking, afterwards that we forgot to use protection.
But that was just one time, right? We’ve had sex several times since. What were the chances that I fell pregnant the one time we forgot to protect against it?
“We…we forgot once,” I say. “But that’s impossible, right?”
“Improbable, not impossible,” Doctor Dias says, shaking her head. “And if you were at a fertile time of your cycle, then highly likely, as well.” There must be something on my face, because she smiles and pats my knees. “Let’s rule out other things, shall we? I’ll schedule a blood test for you and you can…”
“Buy a pregnancy test,” I say numbly.
“I was going to say ‘you can find out the results in a few days’, but that works, too,” the doctor says with a sympathetic smile.
She prints out a form and signs it.
“Take this to the front desk, and our nurse will see you,” she says.
“I… Thanks,” I say.