Tuesday 9th May 2017
Last night he stayed over and neither of us got much sleep.
“Did you just smell my wee? You just smelt my wee!”
“You showed me the stick; I had to smell it!”
We laugh. Everything’s going to be okay.
Sitting on this chair for the Tuesday Morning Management Meeting feels surreal. I am not there. I am inside myself, in a different dimension. What am I supposed to do next, see my GP?
“I need to see a doctor today”
“What is it about?”
“It’s urgent; I just found out that I am pregnant”
“Congratulations! You don’t need to do anything right now; you will need to book an appointment with our midwives for your 12-week scan unless you experience any issue”
I need to practice my vocabulary. Unplanned. Unwanted. I am given the number for NHS Abortion helpline. The tough mission of getting an appointment with a doctor eventually leads me to a nervous breakdown at the health centre, to which the receptionist replies, “bear with me, I’ll see if I can find an emergency slot”.
GP says 5 weeks pregnant; nobody can make the decision but yourself; you have a few weeks to think things through; you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.
Nice one doc.
