Friday, August 27, 2010

Say It Outloud

Dr. Lowe reenters the room, trailed by two nurses. “Mrs. Edmonds,” he’s looking at my file, “have you been experiencing any headaches? Blurred vision, nausea, or vomiting?”


I laugh. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”


“Generally speaking, no. Not this late in development.” He writes something down. One of the nurses is staring at the wall. The other is unsuccessfully avoiding my eyes. She’s young, maybe an intern. She still has schoolgirl habits, like biting her lower lip. I used to do that. I wonder briefly if Eliza will too.


“How about ‘band pain,’ Mrs. Edmonds? Have you experienced any epigastric discomfort?” I frown. He rephrases, “Stomach problems?” I shake my head.


Jerry clears his throat and straightens his posture. “She’s had severe heartburn recently.”


“But that’s nothing new,” I argue. “I’ve always had heartburn.”


“I see,” Dr. Lowe nods. More writing. “Mrs. Edmonds, I’m afraid we suspect you’ve developed preeclampsia. It’s hard to diagnose, of course, until we do an autopsy, however—”


“Autopsy?” I smile. “What are you talking about?”


Dr. Lowe takes another approach. “Mrs. Edmonds, there was a lack of movement on the sonogram earlier. That usually indicates—”


“Oh my God.” Jerry runs a hand through his hair, turns away, then turns back. His hand falls to his mouth.


“What?”


“Mrs. Edmonds, sometimes the maternal immune system has adverse reactions to the antigens from the fetus and its placenta.”


“Eliza,” I correct. “Not ‘fetus.’”


“Yes.” Dr. Lowe sighs and starts again, “Mrs. Edmonds, there’s been some complications.”


“Oh my God,” Jerry moans. I caress my bulge and put my hand over Eliza. I’m scared now, but my brain refuses to understand. Or maybe, refuses to accept.


“What are you saying?” I whisper. “Just say it.”


“You’ve lost the baby, Mrs. Edmonds. You’re going to have a stillbirth.”

2 comments:

  1. All right, so. The hardest part of this assignment, for me, was pretty much all of it. The whole scene kept getting out of control long, so I'd have to restart. Constantly. The toughest decision I made (for economy's sake, I swear) was just not saying how people were feeling. Or, how that narrator was feeling. I had to cut back, which was tough. But, slightly enjoyable. How odd.

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  2. Nice job, Jess. Your solution was a good one. It prevents you from overwriting the emotional activity, and forces you to do more with dialogue and gesture. And I think you do a good job with both. The doctor's drift into medical lingo, for example. Another nice note is the narrator's observation about the nurse, and the way you turn that into a hope for the baby. One thing to think about is that the husband, or father, is a bit of a surprise when he finally speaks. You do a lot of scene setting with few materials, but that was a bit a jarring, so he needs to be around somewhere earlier. The other thing is the believability of the situation. It seems unlikely that she wouldn'thave watched the ultrasound, so, unless she's pretending not to know, this news wouldn't be that surprising after that. The ultrasound provides an interesting alternative moment for this scene, but regardless, that needs to be accounted for.

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