She made it to the bathroom in record time and had never been more pleased to sit on a toilet in her whole life. So, when the sum total of about twenty mils was forthcoming, Peyton was totally unimpressed.
What the hell?
After a further ten minutes of sitting was no more productive, Peyton finally gave up. Washing her hands in the sink, she inspected her face in the mirror. The hollowsbeneath her cheekbones seemed more pronounced in the harsh fluorescent light.
Maybe shedidhave a UTI? One that just involved frequency? Or maybe a kidney stone was blocking the neck of her bladder, only allowing a dribble through at a time?
A completely painless one?
Hell, maybe she was the only woman on the planet with a prostate gland?
She shook her head and watched her reflection follow suit. Maybe it’d be okay. Maybe it wouldn’t happen again. Maybe she was going crazy and she should get back to work and stop worrying about something that was probably nothing.
She hurried back to the theatre, washing her hands again before donning a mask and cap and pushing through the swing doors. Valentino and Darren both looked up as she entered.
‘You want to scrub back in?’ Darren asked.
Peyton shook her head. She didn’t want to risk it. ‘You keep going. I’ll scout.’
Which ended up being a wise decision. Peyton spent the entire day in and out of the toilet. She may as well have stayed at home for all the help she’d been. And when the last patient was wheeled out of the theatre to Recovery, she’d never been more pleased to get out of the theatres in her life.
Changing into her civvies, she grabbed her handbag out of her locker and hurried back to Audiology to update the day’s operating charts. The department had shut for the day and was deserted and the toilets were not only closer but she also didn’t have to have anyone sub in for her if she needed to use the facility.
Or have everyone know she was on the loo – yet again.
Heading to the reception desk, she threw her bag over the back of her chair and made a quick phone call to her GP.The situation was ridiculous and needed remedying as soon as possible.
The phone answered quickly but she was put on hold and Peyton tapped her foot impatiently to the canned music in her ear as she waited to speak to someone.
‘I knew I’d find you here.’
Peyton startled as she looked up to see Nat beaming at her from the open doorway. ‘Hi.’ She smiled back, waving for her friend to enter.
‘Sorry,’ Nat whispered, gesturing at the phone as she plonked herself in the chair opposite. ‘I can come back later.’
‘It’s okay. I’m on hold. What’s up? You look like you just won a million bucks.’
Nat grinned. ‘Better. I’m?—’
Peyton held a finger up as the receptionist came on the other end. ‘Just a sec,’ she said apologetically. ‘Hi, yes, my name’s Peyton Donald. I was wondering if Dr Mantara could squeeze me in this afternoon?’
Peyton listened as the receptionist explained it was impossible and tried not to scream her frustration down the phone. There was no point in shooting the messenger. She took an early morning appointment the next day instead and hung up.
Nat crinkled her brow. ‘Everything okay?’
Peyton sighed. ‘I don’t know.’ She looked at her friend. They’d been close during school but life had pulled them apart again until the last few years. Peyton just hadn’t had the time or an excess of emotional energy for the type of friendship most women valued. She didn’t realise how isolated she’d become until right now as the urge to unburden took her by surprise.
‘I think…’ She hesitated, unused to sharing private matters. ‘I think I have a UTI.’
‘Okay.’ Nat leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’
Peyton told her about the day and the inconvenient frequency symptoms. ‘It has to be a UTI, right?’
Nat regarded her for a few moments. ‘You’re not…? Could you be… pregnant?’
It took a few seconds for Peyton to compute what her friend had said. And she laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she dismissed. And then she sobered as a cold hand clutched at her gut.
The conversation she’d had that night at the door with Valentino came back. The mere thought of what he’d been suggesting had been so preposterous, so…painful, Peyton hadn’t even been able to contemplate it, and she’d shut her mind to the possibility, blocking it like a force field ever since.
