There was an emergency and Dr McGuire needed my assistance with a delivery. Luckily the hospital was less than half an hour’s drive from the venue, and I could be there in the next 20 minutes if traffic was favourable. I quickly pulled Mark aside, apologized for the inconvenience and left.
By twenty past midnight I was at the hospital.
After scrubbing up, and with gloves in hand, I walked into the delivery room, and stopped dead in my tracks…
She looked the same, apart from her huge middle, and the fact that her hair seemed shorter and slightly tousled from all the tossing and turning, due to the discomfort of being hugely pregnant:
Pregnant?
She couldn’t be pregnant. How? When? Why?
I still couldn’t believe it, until Susan McGuire handed me her flipchart. There it was in black and white: N. Thompson. But who was the guy beside her? Her boyfriend?
There was no time for daydreaming or questions. I had to channel my thoughts to the patient on the bed.
All I could see now in front of me was ‘a very pregnant lady about to explode’, so the doctor in me went straight to work. It was definitely going to be a long night...
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