Doctor, I’m Dying
Back in 1987, I was working as a corporate trainer at a bank in Oakland, California. On most days, I would commute from Napa, California, with my husband to Walnut Creek, California. He would drop me off at the BART station, and I would catch the train to Oakland. He worked in Walnut Creek so that he could go on to work. The Train came into Downtown Oakland, about a block away from the bank branch where I was working. The train came into a station that was down in the bowels of the earth. There were three layers of escalators to take to reach the street level.
On this particular morning, none of the three escalators were working, which meant that I had to walk up three levels on the non-functioning escalator. I had been feeling poorly for the last week or two. I had no energy and could have fallen asleep on the sidewalk. I also ached all over and had no idea why. I had been complaining about how I was feeling to my husband for the last week. When he dropped me off, he asked if I was going to call the doctor or if he should. I said I would take care of it.
I sat down on a bench that was located next to the first of the three escalators. I tried to hold back tears, but I sat on the bench and cried my eyes out. I was terrified that I had something fatal. We had only been married for a year, and I was enjoying my life. I was afraid that this illness would be the end of me.
I finally got the energy to climb the stairs to the street and to walk the block to my office, with my full briefcase.
When I arrived, I placed a call to my doctor and, as we had arranged in advance, asked his nurse to have him call me after 6 PM.
I had a long day and couldn’t get my health out of my mind. I worried all day. We rushed home after work. I took the BART train from Oakland to Walnut Creek. Michael was waiting for me at the BART Station. I got in the car and we started our trip home to Napa. The first question he asked me was, “Did you call the Doctor today?” I explained that I had left him a message to call me this evening. He knew about our arrangement. We drove the rest of the way home in silence.
When we arrived in Napa, I got out of the car and could hear the phone ringing. I rushed into the house and grabbed the phone. I was out of breath and glad to hear my Doctor’s voice on the other end of the line. He didn’t fool around with small talk. He asked me what was wrong.
Through my tears, I explained to him all of my symptoms. He asked specific questions and then fell quiet. When he next spoke, he told me that I was not dying. He said, “You’re pregnant!!!” My husband said, “I knew it.” The doctor bet me a bag of popcorn and said to go to the drug store, buy a pregnancy test, and call him in the morning. All of my adult life, I had been told that I would probably never get pregnant. At the age of 49, this was the largest surprise of my life.
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