Page 10 of Special Delivery
James studied her. His eyelashes were abnormally thick. ‘This is the start of a long journey. We shouldn’t go too hard too early on the pain relief.’
Poppy scowled. There was no ‘we’ about it. She was doing this by herself. ‘Whatever,’ she mumbled.
‘Normally I’d do an internal examination to check how far you’re dilated.’ He glanced at her pelvis. ‘But in this case, I think I’ll call for backup.’
Poppy unclenched the thighs she didn’t know she’d tensed. Thank the lord for backup. That would have been way too much. Way, way too much.
CHAPTER 5
The wheels under the white bed squeaked pathetically as Poppy lunged wild-eyed at the guardrail. The bed frame rattled three centimetres to the left, even though the brakes were on. A wave of pain was shuddering up her spine and she folded at the hips and moaned in agony.
Where was that fucking button to call someone?! Where was that fucking midwife?!
The pain was clouding her vision, blending colours and merging shapes. Blindly she grabbed at the cords connected to the bed. She knew that magic button was connected to one of those damn cords.
Finally, she found it and punched the green button.Where the fuck was he?Punch, punch, punch.She would kill him!Punch, punch, punch.
James had left forty minutes ago, announcing he had to do ‘various things’. His condescending aura of calm had tricked her, and now she was all alone with a seismicfucking tornado ripping through her and no-one to help.ARGHHHHHH!
She heard a knock and saw the silhouette of James’s shoulders in the doorway.
‘Where the hell have you been?!’ she cried.
James approached her carefully, glancing at the CTG machine. ‘You seem to be progressing well.’
‘Well?!’ Poppy screamed. ‘I am notwell! I need drugs! Shit has fucking escalated!’
‘Want to try the gas?’ James asked, unwinding a tube from a grey machine next to the bed.
Poppy snatched it. Another contraction was starting, coiling like steel around her organs and smothering her to death. She shoved the mouthpiece in and inhaled deeply. Through her haze of pain, she could sense James was amused. The fucker.
‘The trick is to inhale the gas before the contraction arrives so you’re already relaxed when the pain comes.’
Poppy grunted. Words. Too hard. She inhaled again, feeling the cool gas slide down her throat. Slowly the contraction receded.
‘Is it helping?’ He searched her eyes for an answer.
Poppy winced. She could feel another contraction stirring in her abdomen, about to engulf her.
As if reading her mind, James grabbed her hand and guided the mouthpiece back to her lips.
‘Quick, inhale now,’ he urged. ‘Before it really hits.’
Poppy did as she was told, breathing deeply again and again. The contractions came—still torturous and powerful, the pain only slightly blunted by the gas. She whimperedhelplessly. The contractions were sucking the air from her lungs, they were strangling her arteries, they had filled every capillary with thorns. She couldn’t survive this. ‘Please,’ she begged, reaching for his arm. ‘Please make it stop.’
James checked his watch. ‘I’ll see if we can organise an epidural,’ he said. ‘I’ll go find an anaesthetist.’
‘No!’ Poppy yelped, gripping him harder, her fingernails digging into his forearm. She moaned as the contraction peaked, sending waves of pain reverberating up her spine. ‘Please don’t leave!’
James gently prised her fingers off his arm. ‘I’ll yell from the door.’
Poppy closed her eyes and dug her fists into her thighs as James strode to the door and stuck his head out. ‘Can we get the anaesthetist up here? Quickly, please?’
‘Oh my god,’ Poppy wailed.
James was by her side in an instant. ‘Gas?’
‘No—I need to go to the toilet.’
