Hailey's POV
**Song Suggestion: Safe and Sound by Hayd**
I was nervous as we sat in the outpatient waiting room, anticipating our turn to be called back. The chairs were uncomfortable, with my skin sticking to their fake leather, despite how cold they kept it here. Ian would not be allowed by my side once I was rolled to the back. They told me once I woke they would get him for me, and they gave him a card with my patient number so he could keep up with my surgery progress on a monitor in the waiting area. Ian kept me close all of yesterday, doing his best to make me believe his words, but it was hard when it was literally my egg that caused this mess.
I had been doing exactly what the doctor said not to, but I liked to be as informed as I possibly could. Yes, there were some bad outcomes that could arise, but now I was aware of them, and that made me feel better. I had even found a virtual group of women who had gone through a similar story. I learned so much more from that group, finding things even Google didn't have. These ladies were a collective of information with speculations as to what caused it.
I knew I needed to tell Papi and Mami about the almost baby and what was happening to me, but yesterday I tested the waters with Christin and almost died crying. There was no way I could tell them all yet. Maybe after all this is done, I can at least utter the sentence without bawling my eyes out.
"Hailey Medina." The nurse called my name, stepping out from the automated metal doors.
Ian held my hand tightly as we walked towards her. Her short blonde hair hung just above her collarbone, showing the faints of wrinkles. She smiled at me, trying to show her friendly demeanor in a situation such as this. She led us to rows of beds with curtains pushed back that seemed to encircle the bed when closed.
"Go ahead and change into these. You can keep your bra on, but your underwear has to go. I'll close the curtain, and you can open it when you are done," she instructed, patting a bag on the bed over a hospital gown. Inside the bag were some tacky yellow hospital socks and a slew of large pads and disposable underwear. I didn't think about the aftermath of this procedure. Of course, I would be bleeding. I haven't bled for 3 months now. This is going to be a massive period.
Ian helped put my clothes in the bag and tie the back of my hospital gown. I sat on the bed, covering myself with the blanket, feeling really exposed. Ian opened the curtain for me, allowing the nurse to come in and start my IV. I hate IVs with a passion. They are so uncomfortable with a needle poking me inside. She asked me questions, naming the procedure that would be taking place. She confirmed my age and asked me medical history questions. After that, she injected something into my IV that would help with the anesthesia or something like that. I was honestly catching every other word she was saying at this point, too afraid to ask questions. Not really knowing what to ask either. You don't know what you don't know.
"Alright, young man. It is time to say goodbye. I shall come get you once she wakes from the procedure." The nurse ushered Ian out, pushing him along. His hand slid out of mine as his eyes gazed upon me.
"I love you," he called back, not caring about being loud.
"I love you, too."
Next thing I knew, I was being rolled away by a different nurse, taken back to the operating room where a slew of new faces were waiting. Not a single one of them paid me only mind, having conversations of their own. I was sitting here scared, nervous, and feeling so alone at this very moment. The only two things said to me were "transfer onto this bed" and "take deep breaths as you count back from 10" while a mask was held over my face. It didn't smell that great, invaded my lungs as I watched the nurses scatter about the bright room.
The faint sounds of beeping, along with whispered conversations gradually registered in my consciousness as my eyes fought to open. The sounds seeped through the fog of anesthesia, slowly making their way into my awareness. It was as if my ears were adjusting to the world around me, tuning in to the mixed noises of the hospital.
My eyes struggled to open. Leaving me to try to discern my surroundings through a small slant blurred by thick lashes. I could faintly see someone checking my monitor over me, changing my IV bag beside me. She seemed to notice me start to stir, calling over another nurse to bring me a warm blanket as my body started to shake. The thing is, I didn't feel like I was cold, but the shattering of my teeth said otherwise. Nausea crept through me, making me feel as if I would hurl that very second. I dry-heaved, having a small purple bag placed in my hand. I held it in front of me, gagging and spitting until a small amount of stomach bile came out. It burned the back of my throat, leaving me with an odd taste in my mouth.
My mind felt foggy, trying to comprehend what was happening. I remember being in the operating room, counting down, and then nothing until I woke here. It was as if time had gone missing. Not even a dream had filtered in. The feeling was odd, making it seem as if I had only blinked and an hour of my life had passed.
My body felt heavy, as if I were floating between the realms of sleep and wakefulness. The grogginess from the anesthesia lingered, making it difficult to fully grasp my surroundings. As my senses sharpened, I became aware of the dull ache in my abdomen, a reminder of the procedure I had undergone. A mix of emotions washed over me. Relief, knowing the procedure was over and that the mass had finally been removed. Sadness, that any of this had to happen to begin with. That sudden sadness led to a deep loneliness as I lay here without Ian.
"How are you feeling?" The nurse asked as my eyes finally opened, taking in her familiar smile and short blonde hair.
"Nauseous still."
"I will get you some Zofran to help."
"Can my boyfriend come back?"
"Not quite yet, but soon. Once you feel well enough to move, you can get dressed and I will have him come back." I nodded, still feeling a little too groggy to move.
After about 15 minutes, I felt ready to change, having the nurse guide me to the singular bathroom off to the side. She showed me a string to pull in case I needed help, but I didn't figure I would have to use it. Boy, I was wrong. As I dressed, bending down to pick up my things, I began to feel faint. I felt the room spin and lose my balance. I pulled on the string, leaning on the wall by the door. When the nurse opened the door, I almost fell out. Her arms caught me under the armpits and another nurse quickly brought another wheelchair. I was hooked back up to the blood pressure cuff near the bed I had been in to see that my blood pressure had plummeted to 90/64. I was being fanned, having delayed my departure even further with this dizzy spell. After another 30 minutes, with my blood pressure back to normal, they wheeled me out to Ian, who had brought the car around, having never been allowed back.
He carried me from the wheelchair to the passenger seat, buckling me up as he looked at me with sad eyes. Ian grabbed my hand, interlocking our fingers and squeezing tight. He was silent, allowing me to process everything. I could tell he had questions, and he looked at me every couple of minutes to make sure I was still okay. Apparently, I was as pale as can be, almost matching Ian in color.
"We'll pick up your prescription first and then head home. I had your favorite snacks, drinks, and movie dropped off by Christin. She said she expects to see you tomorrow, but that she will give you today to recoup," Ian informed me. "How are you feeling?"
"Dizzy and crampy."
"We'll get you some pain medicine."