he grinned at her from between her spread legs. It was only her fear of losing this baby that made her abide it.
The doctor went out, nurse in tow. Jenny climbed off the table, wiped away the excess lubricant with a handful of tissue and retrieved her clothes. Once dressed, she let herself into Craig’s office and sat in the chair facing his desk. She’d missed some of the lubricant with the tissue and now she could feel it oozing into the crease of her buttocks.
“Well,” Craig said, “everything looks fine. You’ve sailed past the danger zone with room to spare. Your baby’s growing nicely and your cervix is healthy and snug.” He smiled. “So, for the time being at least, no more tests, no more embarrassing examinations. And no more worry. I want you to go home and get on with the job of being a normal mother with a normal pregnancy. Barring any problems—and I don’t foresee any—I won’t expect you back in this office until the first week of July.”
“July...Craig, you must be joking. That’s three weeks away. I mean, what if...”
The doctor leaned forward in his chair. “You must stop worrying, Jen. The worry will only make you ill. And if you make yourself ill, that will be bad for the baby.” He stood. “So. You’re outta here. I’ve got a waiting room full of fat scratchy women, and they’re starting to sound like a lynch mob.”
“I can call you if anything comes up?”
“Anytime. You know that, Jen.”
Craig led her to his office door. Suddenly, almost desperately, Jenny clutched his arm.
“One other thing, Craig. Can...lovemaking harm the baby?”
“Nature has allowed for that. Now go. And stop—”
“Worrying,” Jenny said. “Stop worrying.”
* * *
“Take a deep breath,” Jack said to the teenage boy on the OR table. The kid was about to have his wisdom teeth removed and he was terrified. “Slow, deep breath...”
Jack injected a bolus of Propofol into the boy’s IV, chasing it with a measured dose of succinylcholine. The latter drug was fast-acting and would paralyze the kid’s muscles long enough for Jack to intubate him and begin to ventilate his lungs with a mixture of anesthetic gases.
He replaced the used syringes on the drug cart and bagged the kid with oxygen for a couple of breaths. When the saturation monitor read 100%, he removed the mask and began working a foot-long, heat-softened endotracheal tube into the boy’s right nostril. The tube made a crinkling sound as it squeezed past the nasal turbinates—the sound of a potato chip bag being crumpled in the hands—then it slipped into the oral cavity. At this point Jack inserted a laryngoscope—a fiberoptic device with a curved blade which allowed him to visualize the vocal cords—and advanced the E-tube into the airway. After removing the scope, he attached the tube to the ventilator and turned on the gas. Three minutes later the oral surgeon took over.
While Jack was doing his charting, Karli Warner, the circulating nurse from the neuro suite, came in and whispered in his ear.
“Can I speak to you a moment, Doctor Fallon? In private?”
“Can it wait?”
Karli was blushing. “It’s kind of urgent.”
Jack sighed. He thought he knew what the trouble was. Will was in neuro today. He followed Karli to the outer corridor.
“What is it, Karli?”
“It’s Doctor Armstrong,” the nurse said. “Doctor Shamji’s trying to clip an aneurysm in there and Doctor Armstrong is hardly ever in the room. He’s out on the phone all the time, and a couple of minutes ago the patient lifted his arm. I turned the gas up a notch, but I’m not supposed to...”
“I know,” Jack said. As department head it was his job to police his members. “You did the right thing coming to me. I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Thanks, Doctor Fallon.”
Shaking his head, Jack returned to his room.
* * *
Kim sat hunched over a work table at the back of the grade nine science room. The science room itself was
The doctor went out, nurse in tow. Jenny climbed off the table, wiped away the excess lubricant with a handful of tissue and retrieved her clothes. Once dressed, she let herself into Craig’s office and sat in the chair facing his desk. She’d missed some of the lubricant with the tissue and now she could feel it oozing into the crease of her buttocks.
“Well,” Craig said, “everything looks fine. You’ve sailed past the danger zone with room to spare. Your baby’s growing nicely and your cervix is healthy and snug.” He smiled. “So, for the time being at least, no more tests, no more embarrassing examinations. And no more worry. I want you to go home and get on with the job of being a normal mother with a normal pregnancy. Barring any problems—and I don’t foresee any—I won’t expect you back in this office until the first week of July.”
“July...Craig, you must be joking. That’s three weeks away. I mean, what if...”
The doctor leaned forward in his chair. “You must stop worrying, Jen. The worry will only make you ill. And if you make yourself ill, that will be bad for the baby.” He stood. “So. You’re outta here. I’ve got a waiting room full of fat scratchy women, and they’re starting to sound like a lynch mob.”
“I can call you if anything comes up?”
“Anytime. You know that, Jen.”
Craig led her to his office door. Suddenly, almost desperately, Jenny clutched his arm.
“One other thing, Craig. Can...lovemaking harm the baby?”
“Nature has allowed for that. Now go. And stop—”
“Worrying,” Jenny said. “Stop worrying.”
* * *
“Take a deep breath,” Jack said to the teenage boy on the OR table. The kid was about to have his wisdom teeth removed and he was terrified. “Slow, deep breath...”
Jack injected a bolus of Propofol into the boy’s IV, chasing it with a measured dose of succinylcholine. The latter drug was fast-acting and would paralyze the kid’s muscles long enough for Jack to intubate him and begin to ventilate his lungs with a mixture of anesthetic gases.
He replaced the used syringes on the drug cart and bagged the kid with oxygen for a couple of breaths. When the saturation monitor read 100%, he removed the mask and began working a foot-long, heat-softened endotracheal tube into the boy’s right nostril. The tube made a crinkling sound as it squeezed past the nasal turbinates—the sound of a potato chip bag being crumpled in the hands—then it slipped into the oral cavity. At this point Jack inserted a laryngoscope—a fiberoptic device with a curved blade which allowed him to visualize the vocal cords—and advanced the E-tube into the airway. After removing the scope, he attached the tube to the ventilator and turned on the gas. Three minutes later the oral surgeon took over.
While Jack was doing his charting, Karli Warner, the circulating nurse from the neuro suite, came in and whispered in his ear.
“Can I speak to you a moment, Doctor Fallon? In private?”
“Can it wait?”
Karli was blushing. “It’s kind of urgent.”
Jack sighed. He thought he knew what the trouble was. Will was in neuro today. He followed Karli to the outer corridor.
“What is it, Karli?”
“It’s Doctor Armstrong,” the nurse said. “Doctor Shamji’s trying to clip an aneurysm in there and Doctor Armstrong is hardly ever in the room. He’s out on the phone all the time, and a couple of minutes ago the patient lifted his arm. I turned the gas up a notch, but I’m not supposed to...”
“I know,” Jack said. As department head it was his job to police his members. “You did the right thing coming to me. I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Thanks, Doctor Fallon.”
Shaking his head, Jack returned to his room.
* * *
Kim sat hunched over a work table at the back of the grade nine science room. The science room itself was
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