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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly July 1, 2003 “How long did it last?” She asked. “About fifteen minutes.” “Do I need to send an ambulance?” “No. I’m fine. Thanks though.” “YOU NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL.” “No. Thanks. I’m fine. Really.” “Are you still cramping?” “No.” “How much blood did you lose?” “Lots and lots. It was gross and interesting at the same time.” She laughed. “Are you still hemorrhaging?” “Not at all.” “Ok. Thanks for calling ‘Ask A Nurse.’ And thanks for answering my questions. What’s your question?” “Well. I was wondering. I know that it was a miscarriage…” She signed. “I can’t tell you whether or not you had a miscarriage. You need to get to the hospital.” “That’s not my question.” I said. I had to word this right, or she wouldn’t help me. “I had unprotected sex two weeks ago. I just had a miscarriage. If I don’t go to the hospital, will I suffer any complications?” “YOU MUST GO TO THE HOSPITAL to have it checked.” She said. Yeah. Um. So. I called my mom. She knows everything. She sighed. “Holly. I think that you’re fine. Two weeks? It would be so small. I don’t think that you have anything to worry about.” “That’s what I thought.” “Are you tired? Maybe you need to eat something.” Shelby called. “Oh. No. Do you need me to come over?” “No. Thanks. I’m fine.” “Did you call Darlin-man yet? He needs to know.” “No. His daughter’s in town this week. We agreed that this would be his time to lavish her with attention.” “That’s ridiculous.” She worried. “You need to tell him.” “Maybe I’ll e-mail him.” “No. You can’t tell him by e-mail. Just wait till tomorrow night. But you should call him. This is important.” “No.” I repeated. “We agreed to phone silence this week.” Mark called from Norway. “I’m never going back to Cairo. These Norwegian women are tall and blonde and beautiful. The beer is good. I’m sitting outside eating salmon watching the world go by. Girl. What are you up to?” “Just had a miscarriage.” “Start over.” He said quietly. “Speak slowly and tell me everything.” Rich happened to call from New York. “Guess what.” “You won the lottery?” “Better than that.” “You won the lottery and you’re buying me groceries?” I laughed. “I got that job. I’m working days, in town. I’m going to go in on my days off do some training. Can you believe it?” “Can’t believe it.” And I couldn’t. It took him ten years to get that job. “How will you celebrate?” “By calling you. What’s new?” He asked. I sighed. “Today was miscarriage day.” “I thought the doctors said that you were incapable of ever getting pregnant? Those doctors don’t know anything, do they?” “Nope.” “I have to ask.” He said with a sigh. “You know how this happened, don’t you?” I laughed. “Yes, I do.” “You know how to make sure it never happens again, don’t you?” “Yes. Thanks for the reminder.” I laughed. I hung up after a good conversation and let the machine take the rest of the calls, checking to be sure that it wasn’t Darlin-man. It wasn’t. It was strange being in a relationship with someone and not being able to call him to share my news. He was so unavailable to me so much of the time. Either he was on call, or on emergency room call or in surgery. And we hardly talked even when he wasn’t playing doctor. Our dates were perfect and fun and I so looked forward to them. But. Our off time was getting kind of lonely. It was starting to remind me of when my friend, Susan, snuck around with a married man. Her dates were great, but there was little contact in-between. Man. What I had was starting to look worse. I was having an affair with a single man who wasn’t available in between dates. I woke up after a long nap to someone ringing my downstairs buzzer. It was dark outside. I let it go. Didn’t feel like company. A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. “Holly? You there?” It was my apartment manager.” I opened the door. “Flower delivery.” He smiled. “Your boyfriend mess up again?” I laughed. “Let’s see.” The card read, “To the woman who makes every disaster look easy. Hope these make you smile. Love Rich.” I called him. “How did you get them here so fast?” “Oh. I found a stork that had a little extra time on his hands.” We laughed uncontrollably. “You know you are my favorite NY friend in the whole world, don’t you?” I said. “Yeah. I know.” “And. When I grow up, I am going to send you flowers every day.” I insisted. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” “Well. You know what I’ll do?” He asked. “What?” “I’ll just mark them all, ‘return to sender.” ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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