Mixed Blessings (19 page)

"How did it look?" she asked nervously as she sat up, when he came into the room. For a fraction of a second, he didn't answer. He glanced at Andy, and then sat down and looked at her. He didn't have good news for her, and as she looked at him, she knew it. "It's not good, is it?"

"No, it isn't," he said quietly. "Both tubes are badly scarred, one appears to be fully blocked, and the other is badly damaged. There are severe adhesions on both ovaries. I'm afraid that an egg would never make it through the tubes. We didn't get good news today, Diana." She stared at him in disbelief, unable to believe what he was saying. It couldn't be as bad as he said, or could it?

"Can you fix it?" she said hoarsely.

He shook his head. "There's absolutely nothing we can do. The one tube looked like it had some possibilities, but you've got severe adhesions on both ovaries and the bowel. The damage is so great, I just don't see how we could fix it. It's not entirely impossible that an egg could get through, but it's extremely unlikely. Stranger things have happened. But I'd say you've got about a one in ten thousand chance of ever getting pregnant. And the adhesions on the ovaries are so great that an attempt at egg retrieval could damage the bowel. That pretty much rules out in vitro fertilization. I think if we did anything, we'd have to go with an ovum transplant, using another woman's egg fertilized by Andy's sperm and put back in your womb, but there's no guarantee of that succeeding either. It looks as though your whole reproductive system was traumatized by a severe infection, probably from your I.U.D, a silent' infection, as we call them, with no symptoms, no warning. I think if you got pregnant at all, it would be a complete fluke, and we don't see a lot of those in this business. There's really not much we can do, except a donor ovum, or adoption."

There were tears streaming down her face and Andy was crying too. He reached out and held her hand as tightly as he could. But there was no way he could take away the pain of what she was feeling, or the truth of what they'd found. All he could do was wish that things had been different.

"How did this happen to me? Why didn't I know? Why didn't I feel it?"

A whole part of her had died and she hadn't known it until now. It seemed impossible that something so cruel had happened.

"That's the nature of a silent infection," Dr. Johnston explained, "and an I.U.D is most often the culprit. Unfortunately, it's not uncommon. No pain, no sign, no discharge, no fever, but an infection so severe that it destroys the tubes, and in this case even the ovaries with adhesions. I can't tell you how many young women we see like that. I'm just sorry it happened to you. It's not fair, but you do have other options." He wanted to give her hope, but he was only bringing despair. The dream of iI having her own baby was over.

"I don't want another woman's egg. I'd rather not have children."

"You say that now, but you might want to think about it later."

"No, I won't, and I don't want to adopt," she screamed. "I want my own baby!" Why had her sisters been able to conceive so easily? Why was it possible for everyone else and not for her, and why had she used the damn I.U.D? She wanted to lash out at someone and there was no one to blame, no one to rail at, no way to make the pain stop and make it better. Andy took her in his arms as she sobbed, and eventually the doctor left them to each other. There was nothing more he could do now.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry," he said over and over again, as he held her. And a little while later they went home, her tummy sore, her womb not only empty but barren.

"I can't believe it," she said to Andy as she walked in the front door. And then she looked around her with horror. She even hated this house now. "I want to sell this house," she said, and then walked into their bedroom. "Those rooms upstairs are like an accusation. You're sterile!" they scream. You'll never have a baby."

She wanted to die as she thought of what the doctor had told her.

"Why don't we think about what he said, about other options," Andy said calmly. He was trying not to upset her more, but he was upset too. It had been a ghastly day for them, and now they had to look ahead to what they were going to do with an entire lifetime. Nothing had gone according to plan, and the prospect of changing their plans wasn't easy or pleasant.

"That thing with the donor egg might be terrific."

"It isn't ternfic!" She screamed at him, acting like someone he had never met before. "There is nothing temfic about that disgusting process. Ternfic is having your own baby, and I can't. Didn't you hear him?" She was sobbing hysterically, and he didn't know what to do to calm her. It was depressing for him, too, but it was worse for her because the fatal flaw they had found was in her body.

"Why don't we talk about this some other time," he said, gently turning down their bed so she could get in. He knew she had to be in pain from the incision.

"I don't ever want to talk about it again. And if you want to divorce me, that's fine," she said, still sobbing as she climbed into their bed, looking devastated.

He smiled sadly at her. She was a mess, but she had every right to be, and he loved her more than ever. "I don't want to divorce you, Di. I love you. Why don't you just get some sleep? We'll both be a little more clearheaded about this tomorrow."

"What difference will that make?" She growled miserably as she lay down. "There is no tomorrow anymore. No next week, no bluetts, or temperatures. There's nothing." They had taken away hope, but with it, they had taken constant disappointment. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, he told himself as he pulled the shades and left the room, hoping that she would sleep finally. But all she did was cry all through the weekend. And on Monday she went to work looking like someone had died. And the only smart thing she did was refuse to take any calls from her sisters.

She looked like a zombie for the next week, and in spite of all his efforts, Andy could do nothing to console her. Eloise at the office even tried to take her to lunch, but Diana put her off. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone-not even Andy.

Before Labor Day he tried to talk her into going to Bill and Denise's wedding, at Lake Tahoe, but she flatly refused to go, and after fighting about it for a week, he went without her. She didn't seem to mind, and he didn't have a great time, but it felt good to get away from her fury, and the constant dull ache of their problems. It was a constant agony, and he had no idea how to convince her that their life wasn't over. "Neither you nor I have died," he said finally, "nor do we have terminal diseases. The only thing that's different is that we know we're not going to have a baby. But I refUse to give up my marriage for that. Sure I want kids. And maybe one day we'll adopt some. But right now, there's you and me. And we are going to destroy each other if we don't pull ourselves together." He was determined to put normalcy back into their life, but Diana couldn't even remember where to find it.

She argued constantly with him and she raged about everything, or some days she didn't speak to all. The only time she seemed sane at all was when she went to work, but by the time she came home again, she was always half crazy, and sometimes he wondered if she was trying to kill their marriage. She wasn't sure of anything anymore, of him, herself, their friends, her work, and least of all their future.

On Labor Day Saturday, Charlie's old friend Mark took him out to dinner. His current girlfriend was away for a few days to visit her parents in the East, and the day before, at work, he had discovered that Charlie was alone, too, for the weekend.

They went bowling that afternoon, and then they went out and had a few beers and watched the ballgame at Mark's favorite bar. It was the kind of afternoon they both loved, and rarely had time for. They both worked hard, and most weekends Charlie did what Barbie wanted to do, which usually meant shopping, or stopping by to see friends. And the one thing she really hated doing with him was bowling.

"So what's new, kid?" Mark asked congenially, as the Mets hit a home run. He loved spending time with Charlie, and Mark was genuinely concerned about the younger man's wellbeing. He had never had a son of his own, just two girls, and sometimes he thought he felt about Charlie the way he might have felt about a son, if he'd had one. "Where'd Barbie go? Back to Salt Lake City to see her folks?" He knew that was where she was from, but not that she would have died before going to visit her family again. Charlie never gave away any of her secrets.

"She went to Vegas with a friend," Charlie said matter-offactly, and smiled at his friend. He loved Mark, too; he had been incredibly good to him at work, and for three years now they had been fast friends and good buddies.

"Are you kidding?" Mark looked shocked. "What kind of friend?"

"Her old roommate, Judi. They went back to see some old pals. They used to live there."

"You let her go alone?"

"I toldu . . . she went withJudi." Charlie looked amused at his concern.

"You're crazy. Judi is gonna be off in ten seconds with some guy, and what do you think is going to happen to Barbie?"

"She's a big girl. She can manage on her own. And if she has a problem, she'll call me." He felt totally confident that she'd be fine, and she'd been so excited about going. She hadn't been back in almost two years, and the seaminess of it had faded from her mind. All she remembered now was the razzle-dazzle and the excitement.

"How come you didn't go?" Mark asked as they ordered a pepperoni pizza.

"Ahh . . . that's not my scene. Charlie shrugged. "I hate that stuff. All that noise and craziness, I don't like to gamble, I can get drunk here at home if that's what I want to do"-which it seldom wad What do I need to go to Vegas? She'll have more fun there with her girlfriends, than with me dragging along, while they giggle and squeal and talk about boyfriends and makeup."

"She hasn't gotten that stuff out of her system yet, has she?"

Mark looked seriously concerned, and Charlie smiled, touched by his friend's involvement.

"What stuff? Boyfriends and makeup?" Charlie teased. He totally trusted Barbie. "She's fine. She just likes a taste of glamour now and then, it makes her feel like she's still an actress.

She hasn't had much work this year, and our life is pretty quiet." He liked it, but he knew she missed the excitement of her old life sometimes, even though she always said she was glad to have escaped it with Charlie.

"What's wrong with quiet?" Mark growled, and the younger man laughed.

"You sound like my father . . . if I'd had one." Charlie loved the fact that Mark cared that much. No one ever had before, except, of course, Barbie.

"You shouldn't have let her go to Vegas. Married women don't do shit like that. They're supposed to stay home with their husbands. What do you know? You never had a mother as a kid. But if my wife had done that, I'd have divorced her on the spot."

"You did anyway," Charlie teased, and Mark grinned sheepishly.

"That was different. I divorced her because she was having an affair with someone else." His best friend at the time, Charlie knew. And she had taken his two girls and moved from New Jersey to L.A which was how he had come to California. He had come to be closer to his daughters.

"Don't worry so much. We're fine. She needed a little fun, that's all. I understand it."

"You're too good-natured. Let me tell you!" He wagged a Danielle Steel finger at him as the pizza arrived. "That's how I was, and I learned . . . now I'm tough!" He pretended to look stern, and they both knew he was a pushover for women. They could have anything they wanted from him, as long as they didn't play around with guys. That was one thing he wouldn't put up with. But he was being sincere with Charlie too. He would never have let any of his girlfriends leave him for a weekend and go to I'as Vegas.

"So what's new with you?" Charlie asked, while they continued to eat the enormous pizza. "How are Marjorie and Helen?" They were his daughters. One was married, and the other was still in college, and they were the pride of his life. He was crazy about them both, and anyone who didn't think they were sensational didn't last five seconds in his life, particularly women.

"They're fine. Did I tell you Marjorie is expecting in March? I can't believe it . . . my first grandchild. They already know it's a boy. Things sure have changed since my day." And then he frowned, wondering when Charlie was going to take a step in that direction.

Maybe that was just what Barbie needed, to keep her home from weekends in Vegas. "What about you? No little ones on the way? It's about that time, don't you think? You've been married, what now? . . . fourteen, fifteen months? That would settle the little lady down in a hurry."

"That's what she's afraid of," Charlie said sadly, but the issue wasn't just what she wanted, but what wasn't happening. According to the books he'd read on the subject, and there had been quite a few lately, they were making love at exactly the right time every month to produce a baby. But after four months of intense attention to his plan, absolutely nothing had happened. And Charlie was beginning to get worried.

"She doesn't want kids?"

"That's what she says now," Charlie said, undaunted by her words, and trying to convey as much to Mark. "But she'll Ichange her mind eventually. Nobody can reset kids. She's just afraid it'll screw up her career if she gets pregnant, that if her big chance comes, she won't be able to take it."

"Maybe it'll never come. You can't sacrifice kids for that," Mark said firmly. He wasn't at all sympathetic to Barbie's whims. He thought she was spoiled rotten, and he didn't like seeing Charlie do it. "You ought to get her pregnant, no matter what she wants," Mark said, sitting back in the booth with a satisfied look, and Charlie sighed.

"Things aren't always that simple."

"She on the pill?"

"No. I don't think so anyway." He hadn't even thought of that, but he didn't think she was devious. She just didn't want a kid right now, and she used her diaphragm, whenever she wasn't too lazy to get out of bed, which, fortunately for Charlie, wasn't often. They were very sloppy about birth control, so much so that Charlie was growing increasingly concerned about their lack of results. And she had said as much herself months before when she said she was surprised, as careless as they were, that she never got pregnant. "I don't know"-he looked sheepishly at his friend-"it just hasn't worked so far."