It was the process—thepregnancy.
“Delaney?”
Her name hiccuped out of me.
“Yeah, Ellie?”
“What do—” I had to stop to clear my throat. “What do you know about women who have a history of blood clots, like ones in their lungs, that were caused by the side effects of hormonal birth control, and what happens when they…become pregnant?”
Delaney didn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, Ellie. How long since a missed period?”
“Just…a few days.”
“So conception?—”
“Like…around three weeks,” I squeaked out.
Delaneydidpause this time. Calculated it out. Likely realized what it meant.
“Have you confirmed?”
“Not yet. I have some tests, but…”
“You should probably take one,” she said, softer. “Because if it’s positive, you should schedule an appointment soon. It’ll be okay.You’llbe okay. I’m not a hematologist or an ob-gyn, but if you choose to remain pregnant, my guess is that your doctors will likely want to start you on a blood thinner, and they probably won’t want to wait too long to start.”
“Okay.” I could feel my heart beat in my throat, thumping against my windpipe. “Okay. Alright.”
“Do you have anyone who could come over, maybe?” Delaney ventured, her voice still incredibly patient.
“Not really.”
All of my friends were part of the same family that I’d purposefully distanced myself from.
I probably shouldn’t even be talking to Delaney right now.
“Would you want me to stay on the phone while you take a test?”
My stomach tied itself in knots at the idea of knowing for certain. I didn’t feel confident that I was ready for this.Poor Delaney would probably just end up sitting on the phone, listening to my heavy breathing as I stared at myself in the mirror, too afraid to look down at the pregnancy test after peeing on it.
“No, no, it’s okay,” I managed. “We should probably be talking about the reason you called.”
“That’s really not urgent. That’s all…hypothetical stuff. Just me complaining about PEQs. It’s not important.”
“Yeah, but I can fix it,” I said, and I hated that my voice cracked on the last two words. “I can fix it for you, Delaney. I can create something that would fix it, and I need?—”
I stopped talking when my voice started to shake, dropping my elbows to the kitchen counter and pressing my forehead into my palm.
“Okay,” Delaney said gently, voice full of understanding. “If you want to talk about it, we can. Of course we can.”
“I want that,” I assured her. “I’dreallylike to talk about patient-entered questionnaires with you, Dr. Delacroix.”
“Alright, I have about twenty minutes until my next appointment. Let’s chat. And then afterward, just know you can always text me if you need anything. Okay?”
I nodded, my head still pressed against the palm of my hand, my eyes squeezing shut. “Thank you.”
It was possible—probable, actually—that I was about to be sick. But I had no idea if that was just the nerves or the?—
