Emily (Part Five)

"Come over 2nite?"

This question had made frequent appearances on my cell phone as of late. After realizing how much work it was to care for two rambunctious dogs (and undoubtedly, some complaints from the neighbors), Emily had given Lily back to the rescue group from which she came. This resulted in more free time for Emily -- free time she wanted to fill with me.

I usually wasn't able to make it over to her apartment, as these requests came during the week. When I get home from work, I have a dog and a house waiting for my attention. However, this night, I decided to take her up on it.

My dog was staying with my mother for the week -- since I haven't given her any grandchildren, she enjoys spoiling the four-legged equivalent. Their mornings together are filled with long walks. The afternoons are set aside for trips to the doggie spa (yes, my mother takes my dog to a spa.) The evenings are filled with belly rubs and doggie ice cream (yes, my mother buys a special brand of ice cream for my dog, which shouldn't be all that surprising given the revelation about the spa.) A good time would be had by all: the dog would be pampered, my mother would have a mammal to spoil (her human grandchildren are all in school), and I would be free to shack up with Emily.

I packed an overnight bag and headed to her apartment after work.

When I arrived at six PM, she was already in her pajamas. And when I say pajamas, I don't mean anything sexy. She looked like the poster child for the flannel industry.

It was warm outside. And it was warm inside.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I feel like crap," she said.

"Have you been to the doctor?" I asked.

"I called, but he can't see me for another week," she explained. "I think it's just kidney stones."

She looked awful. The color had drained from her face, she had chills, a fever, and a cold sweat. And she complained of pain in her lower back and pelvic area.

So much for the romantic evening I had envisioned.

We sat on the couch and watched television. She was curled up in a ball under no fewer than three blankets. I was sweating like a fat man in a sick girl's apartment. Because that's exactly what I was. I walked over to the thermostat -- 84 degrees.

"Pooh, if you touch that, I will fucking kill you," said the pile of blankets on the couch.

"Emily, this is ridiculous," I said. "You need to see a doctor now."

Surprisingly, she didn't argue. Within minutes, she was dressed, and we were both in the waiting room of the ER.

There wasn't much of a crowd, so she was seen by a doctor surprisingly quickly.

"Come back with me, Pooh," she said. "Please?"

I went into the exam room with Emily and listened as she described her symptoms to the nurse.

"Fill these out," said the nurse, handing a clipboard to Emily. "Are you the husband?" she said, looking at me.

"No," I said, not entirely sure of what I was.

"Are the two of you family?" she asked.

"No we are not," I said.

"You need to wait outside," she said. "Family only."

"Sorry, Em," I said, trying to hide my relief at not having to be in the room during various examinations. I returned to the waiting room, where Matlock was currently playing on an old television mounted to the wall.

A few minutes after I returned to the waiting room, two young women came into the ER -- one of them was hopping on one foot. They were both in Hooters uniforms.

"I sprained my ankle," said the hopper, as the woman at the registration counter handed her a clipboard and directed her to sit in the waiting room.

"Ugh," said the other girl into a cell phone, "I had to bring one of our girls to the ER -- she fell and sprained her ankle. And a table of ten guys just sat down in my fucking section, can you believe this shit?" She huffed past me and out the door, leaving her co-worker to fend for herself at the hospital. After all, there were tips to be had, and those hot wings weren't going to move themselves.

Over the next 45 minutes, Hooters girl, whose name, as it turns out, was Kara, proceeded to hop from her chair in the waiting room to the registration counter no fewer than six times. And there was much jiggling.

A woman in scrubs entered the waiting room. "Sam? I'm looking for Sam?"

I stood up.

"Emily would like to see you," said the woman.

"But what about the family-only rule?" I asked.

"I'm the doctor," said the woman, smiling, "I'll make an exception."

When I arrived in Emily's room, she was sitting on the bed in a hospital gown. Her eyes were pink and puffy.

"That asshole," she said.

"Hey," I said softly. "What's wrong?"

"My ex-husband," she said.

She went on to explain that her pain wasn't from kidney stones. Her pain was from several sexually transmitted infections she had contracted from her ex-husband. As if contracting multiple STIs from her ex-husband wasn't bad enough, this was proof that he had been unfaithful.

The good news was that these infections were easily treatable with common antibiotics. The bad news, though, was that they had lingered in her body for a very long time. While she would probably be fine, there existed a chance that the infections may have permanently affected her ability to have children.

Emily was devastated. Her outlook instantly went from "put a baby inside me right now" to "will I ever be able to have children?" This was no simple transition.

"It'll be okay," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders as she cried into my shirt. Emily looked up just in time to see Kara the Hooters girl hopping past the door.

We laughed.

TO BE CONTINUED...