The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (56 page)

“
She didn
’
t mention having a particular choice. A saddle block will do.
”

“
She should have scopolamine,
”
said Parsons.

“
What? I don
’
t see any necessity for completely blocking out her memory of the birth. A lot of women want to see what
’
s happening, and want to feel it—at least they want to feel some of it.
’’

“
Nevertheless,
”
said Parsons,
“
I believe it would be wiser if she slept through the whole thing.
”

“
Aw, come on, Bernard. That
’
s ridiculous. Besides, it
’
s not advisable to give sedation at this stage. We need her awake enough to do some pushing.
”

The doctor was insistent.
“
Look, Archie, I
’
m not trying to tell you how to do your job....
”

“
Don
’
t then,
”
snapped the physician.

“
But I think it would be smarter to slow the delivery a bit, than have this woman mentally charting everything that
’
s happening in here.
”

“
Parsons, if I
’
d known you were going to be a pain in the ass I wouldn
’
t have let you in here!
”
Archer began checking the instrument tray, ignoring the surgeon.

Parsons reached and nudged the tray aside.
“
Will you put her out or won
’
t you?
”

Wheeling around, his eyes smoldering with annoyance, Archer said,
“
Man, I can
’
t figure you! Why is this so important that you
’
re standing here arguing with me?
”

“
For the life of me, I don
’
t know,
”
answered the surgeon.
“
But I wish you
’
d just do it my way, and put her out.
”

“
Many women want to see their babies immediately, as soon as they
’
re born,
”
Archer protested.

“
And some women have unpleasant memories from their pregnancies,
”
said Parsons in a voice suddenly grown cold.

The double doors were shoved open as Sara was wheeled in. She was draped for the occasion and fully awake.

Arrival of the patient should have ended their discussion, but for Bernard it was not ended—not until he had his way on the anesthesia.
“
Well, Archer?
”
he asked.

Archer
’
s eyes glared over the top of his mask.
“
Parsons, you don
’
t know a damned thing about this. Now either shut up or get out!
’’

“
Then you won
’
t knock her out?
”
asked Parsons in a low voice.

“
No!
”

The surgeon was not defeated yet. He stalked over to the mirror and bent it out of line with the delivery table.

Dr. Archer observed the action, but allowed the mirror to remain in an angle.

Sara was assisted onto the table. Both feet were placed in the stirrups as she lay down on her back. Metal handbars were raised along each side for her to later grasp and push against during the heavy contractions. With final adjustment to the stirrups, the lower part of the table was slid in under her pelvis. A nurse stepped forward and swabbed the lower abdomen and inner thighs with antiseptic. The entire area was then blanketed by a sheet containing a window for the vaginal opening.

At the last minute Dr. Archer had decided against the saddle block and opted for a local anesthetic. The anesthetist moved into position and administered the agent to the area around the vagina. This would effectively block the pain receptors and would leave Sara capable of the pushing movements necessary to help extrude the baby.

Since her entrance into the delivery room, the tension between the two physicians had lessened. Parsons had been satisfied in insuring that Sara wouldn
’
t see the actual birth, and he stepped aside to give the obstetrician plenty of room to work.

Allowing the anesthesia to take effect required a few minutes and the surgeon walked over to stand by Sara, momentarily sharing in the short wave of fear that flitted across her face.

She watched his eyes as they darted back and forth over the top of his own sterile mask, and saw one lid drop into a long wink at her. That she had asked him to assist was proof that he inspired confidence in her, that his being here was consoling.

The vaginal opening was becoming distended from the baby
’
s head.
“
We
’
re ready to begin,
”
announced Dr. Archer. Reaching for the tray, the obstetrician chose a scalpel and with a flick produced an incision which enlarged the opening further. With the episiotomy completed, there would be no danger of random tearing of the mother
’
s tissues as the baby began its exit.
“
All right, Sara, let
’
s bear down now,
”
said Archer.

Sara clenched her hands even tighter around the bars and inwardly pushed. The inner tension was clearly evidenced in her face.

Bernard had moved to stand behind Archie, content to be out of the way and a spectator.

The top of the child
’
s head appeared slowly, moving outward by a fraction with each contraction.

“
Bear down, Sara! Come on. Push.
”

Sara
’
s grunt was audible as she followed Archie
’
s instructions.

“
Harder, Sara! Harder, now!
”

More of the same gutteral sounds issued from her.

Slowly, slowly, the tiny head, wet and smooth from fluids, inched into the world.

“
That
’
s a good girl,
”
Archie said encouragingly,
“
a good girl.
”

The small face was turned towards the floor, in his hand.

“
Come on, Sara. Once again,
”
he said.
“
Once more, now.
”

The head was free, and Archie carefully rotated it to the left, turning the body ever so cautiously until the shoulders were correctly positioned. Fluids dripped between his gloved fingers as he gingerly maneuvered the tiny body through the last of the birth canal.

“
Again, Sara. Just as little more,
”
he said.
“
Come on now, Sara. Just a little longer.
”
His voice was soft, almost a croon to the expectant mother.
“
Here we come,
”
he said.

The shoulders were shoving through, widening the vaginal gap even more.
“
Ahhh, here we come.
”

Abruptly the shoulders popped through with unusual ease. Dr. Archer stared down at the infantile form supported by his hand. In disbelief, he glanced up at Dr. Parsons, who by now was making sure the mirror had not become re-aligned to Sara
’
s view.

A faint gasp was heard from one of the nurses who was assisting Archer.

For what must have seemed like minutes, the animation of the medical persons was suspended.

Sounds indicated Sara was still laboring at expelling the infant, and it was these noises that finally reminded Archer of his task.

The abdomen with its thick slimy umbilical cord was just coming into sight when the doctor regained his speech.
“
A little more, Sara.
”
He choked over the words, then cleared his throat.
“
Push, Sara!
”
he said.

And it was free.

All eyes turned to look at the child. Parsons, Archer, the two nurses—only the anesthetist stood by Sara.

Across the gloved hands of the obstetrician lay a miniscule human being. From each tiny shoulder extended a knobby bud, less than an inch long, with several stubby projections. Opposite miniature male genitals were two other buds, again no longer than an inch. In all, it looked like a diminutive doll, without arms or legs, but with a distinctly-formed head atop the red-stained torso.

The room was quiet, empty of adult expression as they stood in somber disbelief.

Parsons saw the shock registered in the obstetrician, who was transfixed as he held his charge.
“
Slap him!
”
he urged.
“
Now, Archer!
”

His command jarred Archer into frenzied action. Failing to find lower limbs by which the infant could be suspended, he shuffled the baby from one hand to the other.

“
Slap him, dammit!
”
repeated Parsons.

“
I... .I can
’
t. There
’
s no way...!
”

“
Turn him on his belly and slap!
”
Parsons yelled.

Archer stood helplessly shifting the child for a more secure grasp when the nurse reached out for the tiny bundle.

“
It
’
s no use, Dr. Archer. He
’
s dead,
”
she whispered.

She took the baby from him and held it.

Archer snatched up a gleaming sterile instrument and clipped the umbilical cord.

Dr. Parsons heard the faint, plaintive call of his name.

“
What is it? What
’
s happening?
”
Sara asked.

The nurse moved away from the center of activity.
“
Bernard, where
’
s my baby? I want to see it,
”
demanded Sara. He quietly closed his fist over her warm sweaty knuckles.
“
Sara, the baby is... the baby is dead.
”

“
Dead? Oh, noooo,
”
she wailed as she threw her arm across her eyes, trying to stop the rush of tears.

“
It was....there was nothing to be done for the little thing,
”
said Parsons.
“
There was nothing to be done.
”

“
My God how I wanted that baby. Ben...oh, Lord, it was all I had of Ben....all that was left,
”
she cried.

Archer quickly ordered a syringe, and injected a fast-acting sedative into her arm.

She was rapidly becoming delirious.
“
Where is my baby? I want to see it!
”
she screamed.

“
Sara. Sara! Don
’
t! You had a little boy. But please, Sara, it won
’
t help for you to see him,
”
said Parsons.

She shook his hand off her shoulder and started pulling her body upright on the delivery table.

“
Keep her still!
”
ordered Dr. Archer.
“
I
’
m not finished down here!
”

“
My baby. I must see him! Where is my baby?
”
Bernard held her against her struggles.
“
All right, Sara. Relax and I
’
ll bring the baby to you.
”

“
No! I
’
ll find him myself,
”
she panted.

The surgeon shoved against her, pinning her to the table.
“
You wait now, Sara. Stay right here. Don
’
t move, and I
’
ll bring your baby to you.
”