A Painful Lesson

Vivid dreams tumble through my head in no meaningful sequence. In a half-stupefied state I become aware of the stertorous breathing of the woman in the room next door. Rather than being filtered by the walls, her snores are magnified to a swelling roar that engulfs my small space. I wonder how anyone can sleep here. The next minute, I am wide awake with a stab of pain. I turn gingerly in bed, wincing at the effort. Over the next few minutes the pain escalates in intensity and seems everywhere at once. The fluorescent blue of my watch displays 3 a.m.; reluctantly I press the call button.

I am in the hospital with premature contractions at the beginning of my third trimester of pregnancy. Being a patient is a new experience for me, one colored as much by my own apprehension as that of my obstetrician at the unexpected turn of events.

A bright light floods the room as the nurse flicks on a switch.

“What can I do for you?”

“I woke up with pain.”

Without my glasses, her face is a blur. She is tall, with a blunt haircut and a businesslike manner. Pens and other paraphernalia peep from her top pocket.

“Where is the pain?”

I trace a hand over my lower abdomen as her cool hands envelope mine.

“What does it feel like?”

“A constant, dull ache.”

“It seems rather localized,” she says after palpating my abdomen. “I wonder if it is your ureter.”

Thinking I misheard her, I wait.

“Maybe you have a UTI,” she says slowly.

“I have no symptoms of one,” I respond, puzzled. The pain seems much the same as that which I've had over the past few days since my admission to the hospital.

“You don't have to have symptoms.”

Bewildered …