Chapter Thirty-Two
Ashley
“The big appointment’s today, huh?” Dan asked when I appeared in the PT room where he was stretching.
“Yep. I’m going to find out how many laser treatments I’ll have to go through to make this,” I pointed to my made-up face, “a permanent look for me.”
“You’re not going to have to be off work, are you?” he grumbled.
“I don’t think so. I mean, I’m expecting bruising and swelling, so my plan is to schedule my treatments on Fridays to give me the weekend to rest and start to recover.” With a grin, I added, “But I probably will be sore, so you’re going to have to be nice to me.”
“Hmph, I am nice.”
That made me laugh out loud.
“Have you always been this nice , or have you gotten nicer in your old age?”
“I know you’re not going to believe this, but l have become nicer and a lot more mellow since my accident. I mean, it took me a while—I was pretty pissed off at the world for the first few months, but I eventually got it figured out.”
“What was your a-ha moment?”
“When June told me to straighten up and fly right, or she was gone. I realized I needed to man up and be the husband she deserved.”
I nodded thoughtfully.
“How long have you been married?”
“Twenty-nine years in July.”
No comparison to the blip in time I’d had with Sloane. I couldn’t hope for him to have an epiphany like Dan had. If anything, Sloane had wanted me gone. He wasn’t going to suddenly decide he needed to get his shit together to keep me.
“Congratulations. You two are an inspiration.”
“You’ll find the right guy someday, kid.”
I appreciated that’s all he said. Once I told him Sloane didn’t want me to come to Germany, he never mentioned him again. And neither did I.
Probably because I still didn’t trust myself not to cry if I talked about him out loud.
~~~~
Sitting in the comfy chair as I filled out the paperwork at the dermatologist’s office, it felt more like I was at the spa than the doctor’s. Between the Zen music, sconce lighting, fresh flowers, and water feature in the corner of the room, I almost forgot I was there for a laser treatment consultation and not a massage.
I’d answered all the usual questions about my name, address, insurance, emergency contact and was going through the checklist of questions about my medical history.
Date of last period.
I paused, trying to remember, but couldn’t so I pulled out my Fitbit to look at my menstrual health tracker.
Scrolling through the calendar, I didn’t come across a pink line of dates until the beginning of November.
That can’t be right.
Although, I had been under a lot of stress and lost a lot of weight, so I guess it was possible.
Next question: Is there a chance you could be pregnant?
That made me frown.
Um… was there?
I mean, maybe? Although, I seriously doubted it—I took my birth control like clockwork, I checked yes and continued filling out the questionnaire.
Ten minutes later, an older woman in scrubs appeared at the entrance and called out, “Ashley.”
I stood and balanced the clipboard while I gathered my purse then approached her with a smile.
“I’m Debbie, Dr. Barrow’s medical assistant. How are you today?” she asked as she led me to a station to take my vitals and get my weight.
“Nice to meet you. I’m good, how are you?”
We exchanged chitchat while she took my temperature, and pulse and respiration rates.
I stepped on the scale and was glad to see I’d gained two of the ten pounds I’d lost since November. Even I had to admit, it’d been too much.
When we got inside the exam room, she studied my paperwork for a minute and softly said, “Hmm.”
I expected her to elaborate, but instead she separated the Velcro on the blood pressure cuff and put it on my arm, then squeezed the pump that inflated it.
After a minute, the air hissed out, and she announced, “Ninety over seventy.”
“Oh. That’s a little lower than normal for me.”
She nodded as she reviewed my paperwork again.
“Since your last period was in November, and you indicated there’s a chance you might be pregnant, the doctor is going to want you to take a pregnancy test. Are you able to give me a urine sample right now?”
I mentally scanned my body to see if I could.
“I think so.”
“Great.”
While I was in the bathroom, I told myself I was glad to be doing this here, because now that the possibility was in my head, I’d fret about it until I got my period again.
I went back into the exam room and sat down. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and a woman in a white coat walked in.
“Ashley? Hi, I’m Dr. Barrows. I have your pregnancy test results…”