Page 70 of Watch Me Burn
I nod, feeling like a scolded child.
She replaces her glasses, focusing on me with renewed intensity. “But that also raises another concern as to why you’re getting UTIs.”
I bite my lip. “I started a relationship a couple of months ago, after not being sexually active for over a year. I’m usually good about peeing after sex, but not always. And the relationship is new, so…” I trail off.
“You’re caught up in it, I get it. But if it keeps happening, there might be something more going on, and we should run some tests. Any worries about STIs?”
“No. We’re exclusive.”
At least I think we are. If I don’t count my indiscretion with Damien.
The clinical discussion feels surreal against the backdrop of what I’ve just learned. I rub my temples, trying to soothe the chaos in my head and the headache pounding behind my eyes.
“How could I not have known I was pregnant? I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake.”
“A veterinarian,” she reminds me, her voice gentle but firm. “And six weeks is very early. Some nausea, maybe fatigue, subtle changes you might attribute to stress or your normal cycle. It’s very common not to realize.”
I nod, but the gesture feels mechanical. My mind is still reeling, trying to process this new reality.
“So what happens now? What do I need to do? Do I need a D&C?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. The pregnancy has terminated on its own. Your body will finish the process naturally over the next several days to a week. You’ll experience cramping and bleeding that will feel similar to a very heavy period.”
The straightforward medical explanation makes it sound so ordinary, so manageable. But nothing about this feels ordinary.
“How much pain should I expect?”
I’m a grown woman, a doctor; I shouldn’t need reassurance about pain tolerance. But my brain won’t cooperate, my thoughts scattering before I can piece them together into anything coherent.
“The cramping can be significant. Rest when you need to. Use heating pads. Over-the-counter pain relievers should help.” The prescription pad tears with a soft ripping sound as she hands me the slip. “This is for something stronger if youneed it. Call me if the bleeding becomes severe or if you develop a fever. And no intercourse for at least two weeks, possibly longer. Your body needs time to heal.”
Two weeks.
How am I going to tell my wolf? He comes every night and never takes no for an answer. It’s part of our unspoken arrangement. I’m always available to him. Always his.
“Luna?” Dr. Ritchie’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Are you alright?”
My eyes snap back into focus, finding her concerned expression across the small room. “Sorry. Just thinking about logistics.”
“Logistics?” Her brow furrows.
“With my partner.” The word feels wrong for what he is to me. “He’s very persistent.”
Dr. Ritchie’s expression sharpens. The shift happens so fast I almost miss it. “Persistent as in he won’t respect your medical need to abstain?”
“No, no. It’s not like that. He would never…” Though would he? “I just meant that our relationship is very physical. It’s a big part of how we connect.”
“I see.” Her tone suggests she understands more than I’ve said. “Well, this isn’t optional, Luna. Your body needs time to heal. If your partner can’t understand and respect that, then—“
“He will. Of course he will.”
Even as I say it, my mind questions if it’s true. Will he understand? Will he stay away? Or will he simply take what he wants, as he always does?
“Good.” Dr. Ritchie studies me carefully. “Luna, it’s normal to have complex feelings about this, even if the pregnancy wasn’t planned. Some women experience grief, relief, and confusion, often all at once.”
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“That’s okay too.” She places a gentle hand on my arm. “Be patient with yourself. You’ve just received shocking news.”
