At St. Francis, they took me back quickly. I think it was the size of my stomach. The nurse at the front desk took one look and said, “Let’s get you a wheelchair, dear.”
The doctor was a woman named Dr. Helen Parker. She was maybe fifty, with short gray hair, sneakers, and very steady hands. She asked me questions about my symptoms, my appetite, my bathroom habits, the fluttering. She pressed on my belly in several places. She frowned a little at what she felt.Support Causes
“Mrs. Whitmore, I’d like to do an ultrasound right away.”
“All right.”
A technician named Rosa wheeled in a machine and turned off the overhead light. She spread cold jelly across my stomach and moved the wand slowly from side to side, studying the gray shapes on the screen.
She was quiet for a long time.
She adjusted the machine. She pressed harder. She tilted her head and looked at the images from several angles. She clicked some buttons and saved some pictures.
