Last Best Chance by Brooke Dunnell EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Brooke Dunnell
- Language: English
- Genre: Popular
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- Size: 2 MB
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Rachel
Cycle day 2 (CD2)
It wasn’t yet seven-thirty in the morning when Rachel Mather wriggled out
of her underpants and kicked them across the exam room oor. Once they’d
skidded safely beneath the chair that held her handbag, she turned so her
bum brushed the edge of the gurney, then hoisted herself up. Friction made
the protective square of white cotton, like a giant sanitary napkin, rumple,
and she yanked the corners to straighten it beneath her buttocks.
Her legs pimpled in the cold. She slouched to look at her feet, wiggling
her toes to get warmth into them. She’d brought socks but let them in her
bag. Staring at socked feet was in some way worse than the articial chill.
Someone knocked, then turned the door handle. ‘Ready?’ a female voice
called, shoes squeaking. Rachel couldn’t remember seeing her before.
‘Rachel Mather?’ A at-ironed fringe hung in the nurse’s eyes.
‘That’s me.’
The nurse pulled a clipboard from under her arm and icked through
the papers. ‘You’ve started to bleed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fresh red blood? Not brown?’
Rachel had been getting her period for thirty years; she knew what it
meant to say it had started. ‘Red as jam. Strawberry jam,’ she elaborated.
‘You know. I guess it could be—what, blackberry.’
The nurse eyed her through the curtain of her fringe.
Rachel tried to smile. ‘Sorry. I guess that’s a bad example.’
‘Are you nervous,’ the nurse said, without the upwards inection of a
question. Leaving the clipboard on a bench Rachel recognised from IKEA,
she sat heavily on a wheeled stool and scooted it towards Rachel’s feet. ‘You
can lie down now. You know the drill?’
‘I do.’
Holding the hem of her skirt between her legs until the nal moment,
Rachel swung one calf at a time into the stirrups, then lowered herself down
until her back met the rustling cover. Some nurses offered a pillow, but not
this one. Rachel touched her chin to her chest so she could see.
The nurse scuttled like a crab to one end of the room and withdrew the
white wand from its holder. Excalibur, Rachel thought, as she always did at
this moment. Next, the nurse snapped a cream-coloured sheath over the
end, then squeezed clear lubricant onto it. The device prepared, the nurse
rolled back to Rachel and used the wrist of her free hand to swipe her hair
out of the way.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Bit of pressure.’
That was Rachel’s cue to drop her head back and close her eyes.
There was the brief sting of resistance, then the rush of warmth as the
transducer entered. Rachel had been told many times—by medical
professionals, not boyfriends—that her cervix was low, and she sucked in
her breath as the probe butted against it.
‘Is that a bit uncomfy?’ the nurse asked. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ Rachel lied.
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