April 11, 2010
By pap3rxh3art SILVER, Commack, New York
pap3rxh3art SILVER, Commack, New York
5 articles 3 photos 1 comment

I waddle my way through the automatic black framed doors. God, my f***ing back is killing me. I try to shift my backpack but it doesn’t help much. I place my left hand on the center of my back and my right hand over my enormous belly, it helps a little and I continue on. The lobby smells of bleach and the paint on the walls are peeling off. I walk to the front desk, the one that has the flimsy red plastic sign hanging over it that spells out reception in big block letters. Some short lady with some bad highlights sits in mint green scrubs with Mickey and Minnie Mouse on it. I’d hate to have to wear s*** like that to work everyday I think to myself but I just smile as she organizes a huge stack of folders on her desk. She looks up through her eyelashes to a point at which our eyes meet. She’s still organizing her desk and even knocks over a mug that says “Greatest Caretaker” on it. I laugh to myself even though I probably shouldn’t but she doesn’t notice so it’s okay.

“Can I help you Miss?” She almost mumbles through her teeth, it’s obvious she’s been working long hours and she desperately needs a cup of coffee. Bags are starting to form under her eyes and her mascara is clumping. I try to keep the smile on my face for as long as I can but I just want to get this over with and get out.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Vasco.” I say trying to keep quiet. I don’t want to attract unnecessary attention from others. That’s the last thing I need.

“I think you’re mistaking, Dr. Vasco is a baby doctor,” She finally looks up after her desk is cleared of all the crap that was placed on it prior and just stares at my stomach. “Oh…umm, yes, take a seat and we will call you up when Dr. Vasco is ready for you. I just need your name so I can find your file.”

“Cara Anderson.” I tell her my name as I lean over the counter in order to keep it quiet. I don’t want anyone knowing who I am. I bite my lip, it’s always the same. Awkward glares and stares. I turn towards the waiting area and take a seat on a red fabric covered chair. I slide my backpack off of my shoulder and rub my neck. My whole body is sore and I can barely keep my eyes open. I tilt my head back but I can feel people watching me. I look out of the corner of my eyes and the waiting family members and patients look away, they pretend they are keeping busy but it’s obvious what they are thinking. I just want to scream out that I am a 17 year old teenager that got knocked up by her b****** boyfriend and that I regret the whole thing, but I’d probably get kicked out if I even attempted my act. I slide my book out of my backpack, The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. I’m almost done and it sure is a great book but I just can’t bring myself to start reading the tiny black print. I’m too nervous, I start sweating and I can feel myself to panic. I start breathing through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. Smell the flowers, blow out the candle. Over and over again until I can feel my heart rate drop a smidge. My hands are clammy and sweaty and I try to rub them on my stretchy black pants. I check my cell phone, zero texts, zero calls, zero messages. I feel alone, and I’m not ready to do this by myself. I have an urge to take my s*** and leave but the nurse beats me to it. She opens the door with my file in hand and shouts my name. Maybe I can pretend I’m somebody else, but she sees me. It’s the nice nurse, she’s always here and she knows who I am so I have to get up. I put the book back in my backpack and zip it up. I sling it over my shoulder and use my right hand to support my belly as I use the left hand to push myself up and out of the chair. Who knew something so simple could be so freaking difficult. The nurse smiles at me, I smile back but I think she can tell that I don’t want to be here. She leads me down the white hallway to the examination room. I pass plenty of pregnant women but their all older than I am, maybe late 20’s, early 30’s I’m guessing. The nurse opens the door to exam room 7 and tells me to wait because the doctor will be in soon. I crack my knuckles, a habit I do when I’m nervous, and she walks out closing the door behind her. I’m just sitting here waiting, and waiting.

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