Concern flickers through me. I pull back slightly, searching her face. “Did I hurt you?” I ask.
She smiles softly. “Nothing’s wrong,” she murmurs. “I was enjoying the moment.” Relieved, I lean in and kiss her again, savoring the warmth of her lips.
I stay with her until she drifts back to sleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. Once I’m sure she’s resting comfortably, I press the call button, needing answers about her surgery.
A nurse enters the room.
“Is she awake again?” she asks.
“No, she just went back to sleep,” I reply. “I was wondering if I could speak with the doctor about her stomach operation.”
She nods. “I’ll page him for you. It’s near the end of his shift, so he shouldn’t be long.”
I exhale, unease settling in my chest. Something doesn’t feel right.
An hour passes, each minute stretching longer than the last. Frustration builds as I wait, the silence in the room amplifying my anxiety, when finally, the doctor walks in.
“I heard you wanted to see me?” the doctor says.
I stand to greet him, nodding. “I was wondering what kind of operation you did on Dee’s stomach,” I say.
“Okay, but not in here,” he answers, and dread instantly fills my veins.
He leads me outside her room, so we’re far enough away that she won’t hear, but still in the doorway so I can still see her.
“Right, so just lay it on me. How bad is it?” I ask, and he rubs the back of his neck—that’s not a good sign.
“The metal tubing that penetrated her stomach also penetrated her uterus and her right fallopian tube and ovary,” he stops, and I look at him, not understanding.
“Right, so that means?” I ask, not knowing anything about medical jargon.
He shakes his head and continues, “Basically, because the damage to her uterus was not repairable, we had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to remove all the damaged tissue.”
I stare at him, confused as fuck.
All this medical jargon—I have no idea what he’s saying.
“Doc, in English?” I question.
“Colt, we had to remove everything.”
“Okay, well, does she need a transplant or something? What does she need?” I beg, simply wanting him to explain in words I understand.
“No, Colt, a transplant isn’t possible—”
“Then what the fuck are you talking about?” I yell, getting frustrated.
He shakes his head and places his hand on my arm for comfort, but it doesn’t give me any. “Colt, it means she can’t conceive or carry a child. Shewillnotbe able to get pregnant, and shewon’tbe able to—”
“For how long? ’Cause I know she wants kids, but how long until she can?” I interrupt, guessing it can’t be too bad since we can always have children later. I mean, we wanted to get married first, so it’s notthat bad.
“Colt, I need you to listen to what I’m saying. Dee willneverget pregnant, and she cannevercarry a baby. The organs she needs to do that, we had to remove. All of them. Dee willneverfall pregnant,” he informs me, and dammit, I finally get what he is telling me.
I take a few deep breaths as the gravity of this situation sinks in. “Deecan’tget pregnant?” I ask to confirm, and he shakes his head. “Ever?” I question, and he shakes his head again.
“So, we will never have children naturally?” I inquire, and he nods his head.
Fuck me!Instantly, I feel sick to my stomach with the heavy weight that has been dropped on me. I bend over and place my hands on my knees, breathing deeply.
