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FORTY-ONE

Kristen

Doctors’ offices are never warm enough. You’d think they’d keep the heat up in a place where you’re expected to sit and wear nothing but a paper gown.

Josh leaned next to me against the examining table where I sat with my bare legs dangling. He held my hand so I couldn’t fidget.

“Does it always take this long?” he asked, checking his watch.

His wedding ring was on his watch hand and I smiled at it, despite being cold and nervous. The inscription inside his ring said “okay.” I’d had my ring sized, and Josh had it inscribed with “my universe.” We were adorable.

We were also hungry.

It had been almost a half an hour since the ultrasound tech finished taking images. Nobody had been back since, and I’d had to fast for a glucose test. Josh hadn’t eaten in solidarity, so we were both starving.

I sighed. “I don’t know how long this takes. I’ve never had a pre-op for a hysterectomy before.”

We’d been married four weeks. It had been a hectic month.

Josh had moved in with me, but we realized almost on day one that we needed a place closer to Sloan. Both of us were there more than we were at home.

We asked her to move in with us and she’d flatly refused. We asked to move in with her and she refused that too. So we’d been house hunting in addition to merging our lives, launching our new line of doghouses, and taking care of my best friend.

Josh had taken on all the home repairs that Brandon hadn’t gotten to. He cooked most of our meals, and I spent almost every day still getting her out of bed, cleaning her house, trying to cheer her up.

She wasn’t getting any better.

The only time I could get her to leave the house was to visit Brandon’s grave or for the occasional visit to Starbucks. She refused to go to the doctor for counseling or antidepressants to help get her through. I didn’t know what else to do.

Josh nuzzled me and I closed my eyes, leaning into him. “What should we bring to Sloan’s for lunch?” he asked.

“Um, she likes tacos. We can stop at the taco truck on the way over.”

He cupped my cheek with his hand. “Sounds good. Remind me to fix her bedroom door. The lock has been sticking.”

I tilted my head and he kissed me. He was always kissing me. Touching me, hugging me, holding my hand. We didn’t get a honeymoon, but it didn’t matter.

Every day was our honeymoon.

Last week Sloan’s mom came and spent a few days with her so Josh and I could fly to South Dakota for me to meet his family.

He was not kidding. His sisters were crazy.

I loved those bitches.

It was like running with a pack of female alpha wolves fighting for the pack leader position. It was so much fun.

When we were there, we decided his sister Carmen was in the best place to be our first surrogate. She was a stay-at-home mom with her toddler and her seven-year-old, and she’d had the easiest pregnancies.

I’d have to do daily injections before they could harvest my eggs, and my fibroids never responded pleasantly to hormones, so even though we were busy with Sloan and my recovery was going to be a long one, we decided to schedule my hysterectomy.

It was time. My cramps had been horrible, and I was still spotting almost daily. The fibroids had started pushing against my bladder, and I couldn’t sleep on my stomach anymore because it was too uncomfortable. And no matter how many times Josh told me I was sexy, I didn’t feel like it with my potbelly.

I was ready to be done.

Josh was kissing me when the knock came on the door, and we jumped away from each other like teenagers who just got caught making out.

Dr. Angelo let himself in, looking at my chart. “Well, we have all your tests back. Mr. Copeland, you were definitely right to be concerned.” He flipped a page, scanned it for a moment, and then turned to me. “You’ve got a few things going on that unfortunately are going to make the hysterectomy out of the question.”