“How recently?” His pen was poised over the paper to write her answer as she thought about it.
“A month ago. I just ended a relationship a few weeks ago.” But she didn’t tell him how heartbroken she was. It was none of his business.
“Could you be pregnant?”
“Hardly, at my age. I think I’m a little too old to get pregnant, without technical help,” she said, and he nodded. It was true. But accidents did happen, even at her age. She wasn’t that old. Forty-seven wasn’t entirely out of the realm of the possible, even if unlikely, as she said, “We used protection.” They hadn’t the first time, but it had been their only slip, and after that they’d been careful. Simon had thought they should be, for her sake, although she wasn’t worried about it with him.
“Condoms?” She nodded. “You’re not on the Pill?” She shook her head, although she knew there were accidents with that too. But she’d never had a mistake of that kind in her life, except for Salima. She had always been careful and was responsible about it, and Simon had been too, even though she thought it unlikely she’d get pregnant. They hadn’t taken the chance.
“I don’t think that’s it,” she said firmly.
“Probably not. But it doesn’t hurt to check. I’ll run some hormone levels on you. Your estrogen may be low. This could be the beginning of menopause.” That sounded even more depressing, and she said her periods were still regular, except less so since the shock of his leaving, and her depression, and she’d been sick.
“I think I’m anemic, or just run-down.”
“You look fine,” he said after he examined her. “And I’ll have the results of the bloodwork tomorrow. Give me a call.” She left his office a few minutes later and went home. But she felt no better that night and went straight to bed. Salima came in to see her after dinner.
“I’m sorry I’m such a bore at the moment. I can’t seem to shake this flu. How was dinner?” Blaise asked her in a lifeless tone.
“Okay. Nothing fabulous. I’m trying to teach her to make pasta like Simon, and soufflé. She’s not much of a cook.” Salima had learned a lot from him and was trying to direct Becky. She had all his recipes written down in Braille and a Braille cookbook he had given her.
“Soufflé may be asking a lot.” Blaise grinned. Simon had real talent in the kitchen, not just recipes. They talked for a little while, and then Salima went back to her room to chat with her friends on Facebook, and Blaise went to sleep. She woke up on schedule at four A.M. the next day and felt like death again. She was beginning to get worried and wondered what the doctor would say. Maybe he was right and she had picked up some nasty virus on a plane, or in a foreign country. She felt like she was dying, or at the very least seriously ill. She began thinking about leukemia or lupus.
But in spite of how she felt, she did an excellent segment about the Middle East that morning. And the makeup artist thought she looked pretty, although she felt disconnected and dull, and the only time she seemed like herself now was on the air. She felt like an old well-trained horse who only came alive when she worked.
And she was so busy that afternoon that she forgot to call the doctor. It completely slipped her mind. And at five o’clock, after he saw his last patient, he called her.
“Well, I think we’re getting there. You’re definitely anemic. I’m going to prescribe some iron for you, Blaise. And I think you may have picked up a virus on a trip. There’s not much we can do about it, a virus won’t respond to antibiotics, so you’ll just have to wait it out. You’ll probably feel better in another week. Most viruses don’t last much longer than that, and you said you’ve been feeling rotten for about a month.” It had been that long. She had felt fluish the week he left, and totally awful for the three weeks since. She was relieved by what the doctor said, at least it wasn’t something really awful. She had to be able to do her job. Salima depended on her.
“Thank you, doctor,” she said, sounding more relaxed. She’d been slightly worried about the tests. At least he had a reason why she felt sick. Anemia and a virus.
“And there’s one other thing,” he continued as her heart skipped a beat. What if it was something terrible after all and he had saved it for last?
“Serious?”
“That depends on how you feel about it. You’re pregnant.” He said it, and Blaise stared at her office wall, trying to comprehend what he had said.