“My, you do seem a little tense.”
“I’ve been trying to fight it,” Marissa admitted.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Dr. Arthur offered.
“Let’s give you a little taste of Valium and ketamine right now.” He went to fetch a syringe from the cabinet.
“This biopsy stuff is a piece of cake,” he called over his shoulder.
Marissa nodded without enthusiasm. She had already tired of the pastry metaphor. The fact was that she was nervous, and despite having felt a bit better when Dr. Arthur first appeared, now she felt decidedly worse. His offhand manner of referring to more extensive procedures had not left her feeling reassured.
Again, her intuition began sending out alarms of imminent disaster.
Marissa had to fight against the irrational urge to flee.
“I’m a doctor,” she silently repeated to herself over and over again.
“I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”
The door to the hall burst open. In swept Dr. Ronald Carpenter dressed in surgical scrubs which included a hat and a mask.
With him was a woman also in scrub clothes although her mask was draped down over her chest.
Marissa recognized Dr. Carpenter immediately despite the mask. His bright, crystal-blue eyes and tanned skin were unmistakable.
“This is only a biopsy?” Marissa questioned nervously.
Dr. Carpenter was dressed for major surgery.
“Miss Blumenthal is nervous about having a hysterectomy,” Dr. Arthur explained, snapping the side of a needle to release the air bubbles. He returned to Marissa’s side.
“Hysterectomy?” Dr. Carpenter asked with obvious confusion.
“What are you talking about?”
Dr. Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“I think our patient here has been doing a little reading.” He picked up the IV tubing and injected the contents of the syringe. Then opened the IV to flow rapidly for a moment.
Dr. Carpenter stepped over to Marissa and put his hand on her shoulder. He looked into her dark brown eyes.
“We’re only doing a simple biopsy. There’s been no talk of a hysterectomy. If you are wondering about my clothes, I’ve just come from surgery.
The mask is because I have a cold and don’t want to spread it to any of my patients.”
Marissa looked up into Dr. Carpenter’s bright blue eyes. She was about to reply when the blue brought back a memory that she’d been long suppressing: the terror of being attacked in a hotel room in San Francisco a few years earlier and the horror of having to stab a man repeatedly to save her own life. At that moment the episode came back to her with such startling clarity, she could actually feel the man’s hands around her throat. Marissa started to choke. The room began to spin and she heard a buzzing noise that gradually got louder.
Marissa felt hands grabbing at her, forcing her down on her back. She tried to fight since she felt she could breathe easier if she were upright, but it was to no avail. Her head touched the examination table, and as soon as it did, the room stopped spinning and her breathing became easier. Suddenly she realized her eyes were closed. When she opened them, she was looking up into the faces of Dr. Arthur, the woman, and the masked face of Dr. Carpenter.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Carpenter asked.
Marissa tried to speak but her voice wouldn’t cooperate.
“Wow!” Dr. Arthur said.
“Is she ever sensitive to the anesthetic!”
He quickly took her blood pressure.
“At least that’s okay. I’m glad I didn’t give her the whole dose.”
Marissa closed her eyes. At last she was calm. She heard more conversation, but it sounded as if it were someplace in the distance and didn’t involve her. At the same time she felt as if an invisible lead blanket were settling over her. She felt her legs being lifted, but she didn’t care. Then the voices in the room receded further. She heard laughter and then a radio. She felt instruments and heard the sound of metal hitting metal.
She relaxed until she felt a cramp like a menstrual cramp. It was pain but not normal pain in that it was more alarming than uncomfortable. She tried to open her eyes but her lids felt heavy.