Without You

Chapter 18

As I approached the clinic, the facade of normalcy began to crumble, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath the surface. The decision to undergo such a procedure, while seemingly pragmatic, carried an emotional toll that threatened to engulf me. At that moment, the drama of the day paled in comparison to the profound personal turmoil that awaited within the sterile walls of the clinic.

"Excuse me. What is the procedure for abortion?" I couldn't suppress the urgency in my voice as I approached one of the nursing staff at the clinic's counter.

Her demeanor softened slightly as she considered my plea. "The operation is relatively painless and lasts for approximately one hour. Okay, tell me your name and address," she instructed.

"Emily Andrewson, 133 Bluebonnet Lane, Scotts Valley, CA 95066," I replied, each word laden with a sense of urgency.

"How many weeks since you didn't have periods" she inquired, maintaining a clinical detachment.

"Approximately 6-7 weeks, I think, I've missed two months of periods" I admitted, the weight of my reality sinking in.

"Alright, it will be better if you come again in two days. Your appointment has been approved," she informed me, her words punctuating the air with a mix of relief and apprehension.

Swiftly, I exited the clinic, the reality of my situation hanging heavily over me. The clandestine nature of the appointment added an extra layer of secrecy to the already delicate circumstances. As I stepped back into the world outside, the bustling streets and indifferent faces offered no solace, and the upcoming days loomed ahead, pregnant with the weight of a choice that had become inevitable.

In the subsequent days, time became an unpredictable companion, oscillating between moments of poignant reflection and fleeting distractions offered by the intermittent presence and absence of my friends in my life. Each passing day carried the weight of its peculiar rhythm, a symphony of emotions conducted by the flow of those familiar faces.

As the days unfolded, I found myself in the stark, muted atmosphere of the clinic's lounge for the second time, surrounded by a diverse tapestry of individuals, each grappling with their unique struggles. Pregnant women, some visibly heavy with anticipation, others cradling infants in their arms, and some young individuals like myself, all shared the space with a common thread of vulnerability.

My expression remained stoic, my eyes scanning the room, absorbing the shared atmosphere of apprehension. The receptionist's call disrupted the silent symphony, snapping me back to attention. "Miss Emily Andrewson, Room no. 14, Doctor Miller is waiting for you," she announced, her smile warm yet unable to thaw the icy numbness entrenched within my heart.

Opening the door to Room 14, I was met by a middle-aged assistant nurse, her presence overshadowed by the main figure seated at the office desk – Doctor Miller, a tall and elderly woman with a serious countenance. "Hello, I'm Doctor Miller. I've read your test file. You are seeking an abortion, correct?" she inquired with a composed yet serious demeanor.

"Yes, I must undergo the procedure," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Have you thoroughly considered this decision?" she probed further, her gaze penetrating.

"Yes, I have. I'm completely ready for it," I affirmed.

"Okay, please lay down on the bed," she instructed, her eyes still fixed on the medical file. "Evana, help her," she directed her nurse. I complied, positioning myself on the checkup bed as Doctor Miller proceeded with an ultrasound examination to locate the developing life within my womb.

Once the examination concluded, she raised a critical concern. "Are you sure about the abortion? It can pose risks in your current condition. Additionally, it might cause damage to your reproductive organ, affecting your ability to conceive in the future."