Mindbend

CHAPTER 2

Dr. Clark Vandermer’s office was just off Park Avenue on Thirty-sixth Street. Jennifer got there by taking the Lexington Avenue subway to Thirty-third Street and walking north. The building was a large apartment house complete with awning and liveried doorman. Entrance to the professional suites was to the right of the building’s main entrance. As Jennifer opened the front door, the slight smell of medicinal alcohol made her flinch. She had never enjoyed going to the gynecologist, and the idea that she might be pregnant made this particular visit especially upsetting.

Jennifer walked down a carpeted hallway, reading the names painted with gold leaf on the doors. She passed the entrances to the offices of two dentists and a pediatrician, and came to a door on which was written “GYN Associates.” Below this was a list of names. The second name was Dr. Clark Vandermer’s.

Jennifer took off the coat that she’d purchased secondhand in Soho for thirty-five dollars and draped it over her arm. Under the coat she was dressed quite well in a smart Calvin Klein shirt-dress that her mother had recently bought for her at Bloomingdale’s.

As she opened the door, Jennifer remembered the office from her previous visits. On the wall opposite the entrance was a sliding glass panel beyond which sat the receptionist.

There were a number of women in the waiting room. Jennifer didn’t count but there had to be more than twelve. All were well dressed and most were either reading or doing needlepoint.

After checking in with the receptionist, who admitted that she had no idea how long the wait would be, Jennifer found a seat near the window. She picked up a recent copy of The New Yorker from the coffee table and tried to read, but all she could do was worry about Adam’s reaction if she were really pregnant.

It was two hours and fifteen minutes before Jennifer was finally called. She followed the nurse to an examining room.

“Take off all your clothes and put this on,” the woman said, handing Jennifer a paper cover-up. “I’ll be back and then the doctor will be in.”

Before Jennifer could ask any questions, the nurse was gone and the door closed.

The room was about ten feet square with a curtained window at one end, a second door to the right, and bare walls. The furniture included a scale, a wastepaper basket which was full to overflowing, an examination table with stirrups, an open locker, and a sink. It was hardly cozy, and Jennifer remembered that Dr. Vandermer was brusque to the point of rudeness. Adam had sent her to him because he was supposed to be the best, but “best” did not seem to include an evaluation of bedside manner.

Not knowing how soon the nurse would be back, Jennifer hurried. She deposited her large coat and bag on the floor and used the locker for her clothes. Once naked, she tried to figure out the cover-up. She couldn’t tell if it should go on with the opening in the front or the back. She opted for the front. Then she tried to decide what she should do with herself. Should she lie down on the examination table or just stand? Her feet were getting cold from the tile floor. She lifted herself onto the examination table and sat on the edge.

A moment later the nurse returned in a rush.

“I’m so sorry for the long wait,” she said in a pleasant but harried tone. “We seem to be getting busier and busier. Must be a new baby boom.” She quickly began checking Jennifer’s weight and blood pressure and then sent her to the bathroom for a urine specimen. When Jennifer returned, Dr. Vandermer was waiting.

Jennifer had always been leery of handsome gynecologists, and Dr. Vandermer evoked that old reservation. He looked more like an actor playing a role than a real doctor. He was tall with dark hair silvering on his temples. His face was square with a sharp chin line and a straight mouth. He wore a pair of reading glasses on the end of his nose and looked over them at Jennifer.

“Good morning,” he said in a voice that did not invite conversation. His blue eyes swept over her, then her chart. The nurse shut the door behind them and then busied herself with the contents of a stainless-steel pan by the sink.

“Ah, yes. You’re Mrs. Schonberg, the wife of Adam Schonberg the third-year medical student,” Dr. Vandermer said.

Jennifer didn’t know if it were a statement or a question, but she nodded and said that she was Adam’s wife.

“I wouldn’t think this was a good time for you to be having a baby, Mrs. Schonberg,” said Dr. Vandermer.

Jennifer was shocked. If she hadn’t been naked and vulnerable, she would have been angry. Instead she felt defensive.

“I hope I’m not pregnant,” said Jennifer. “That’s why you put in an IUD a year ago.”

“What happened to the IUD?” asked Dr. Vandermer.

“I think it’s still there,” said Jennifer.

“What do you mean you think it is still there?” questioned Dr. Vandermer. “You don’t know?”

“I checked just this morning. The strings are there.”

Shaking his head, Dr. Vandermer indicated to Jennifer that he thought her less than responsible. He leaned over and quickly wrote something on the chart. Then he raised his eyes, took off his reading glasses. “On the history you filled out a year ago you indicated that you had a brother who’d only lived for several weeks.”

“That’s right,” said Jennifer. “He was a mongoloid baby.”

“How old was your mother at the time?” asked Dr. Vandermer.

“I think she was around thirty-six,” said Jennifer.

“That’s something you should know about,” said Dr. Vandermer with thinly veiled exasperation. “Find out for sure. I want that information on the chart.”

Putting down his pen, Vandermer took out his stethoscope and gave Jennifer a rapid but thorough physical examination, peering into her eyes and ears and listening to her chest and heart. He tapped her knees and ankles, scratched the bottoms of her feet, and inspected every inch of her body. He worked in total silence. Jennifer felt as if she were a piece of meat in the hands of a very competent butcher. She knew Dr. Vandermer was good, but she could have used some warmth.

When he finished, the doctor sat down and quickly wrote his findings on the chart. Then he asked Jennifer about her menstrual history and the date of her last period. Before she could ask any questions he motioned her into a prone position and began the pelvic.

“Just relax now,” said Dr. Vandermer, finally remembering that his patient was probably anxious. Jennifer felt an object enter her. It was done smoothly and expertly. There was no pain, just an unpleasant fullness. She could hear Dr. Vandermer speak with the nurse. She heard the door open and saw the nurse leave.

Dr. Vandermer stood up so that Jennifer could see him. “The IUD is still in place, but it looks like it is low. I think it should be removed.”

“Is that difficult?” asked Jennifer.

“Very simple,” said Dr. Vandermer. “ Nancy went to get me an instrument. It will only take a second.”

Nancy returned with something that Jennifer could not see. She felt a fleeting twinge of pain. Dr. Vandermer stood up holding a coil of plastic in his gloved hand.

“You definitely are pregnant,” he said, sitting down at the desk and writing anew on the chart.

Jennifer experienced a rush of panic similar to the one she had felt the moment she saw that the home pregnancy test was positive.

“Are you sure?” she managed with a quivering voice.

Dr. Vandermer did not look up. “We’ll confirm it by laboratory tests, but I’m sure.”

Nancy finished writing labels on the specimen tubes and came around to help Jennifer remove her feet from the stirrups. Jennifer swung around so that she was sitting on the side of the examination table.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Everything is perfectly normal,” assured Dr. Vandermer. He completed the chart, then spun around to face her. His expression was as neutral as when he’d first entered.

“Can you give me some idea of what to expect?” asked Jennifer. She folded her hands to steady them and put them on her lap.

“Of course. Nancy Guenther will be your nurse practitioner,” Dr. Vandermer said, nodding at the nurse. “She’ll go over things like that with you. I’ll be seeing you for routine visits monthly for the first six months, then every two weeks until the last month. Then weekly unless there’s a complication.” Dr. Vandermer got up and prepared to leave.

“Will I be seeing you each time I come?” asked Jennifer.

“Generally,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Occasionally I might have a delivery. Then you would be seen by one of my associates or Nancy. In either case they would report directly to me. Any other questions?”

Jennifer had so many questions she didn’t know where to begin. She felt like her life was coming apart at the seams. She also had the feeling that Dr. Vandermer wanted to leave now that the exam was over. “What about when it comes time for my delivery?” she asked. “I don’t mind seeing someone else for a routine visit, but when it comes to delivering, I feel differently. You’re not planning a vacation around my due date, are you?”

“Mrs. Schonberg,” began Dr. Vandermer. “I haven’t taken a vacation in five years. I go to an occasional medical meeting and I’m planning to lecture at a cruise seminar in a couple of months. But that certainly will not conflict with your due date. Now if you have no more questions, I’ll turn you over to Nancy.”

“Just one more thing,” said Jennifer. “You asked about my brother. Do you think it is significant that my mother gave birth to a defective child? Does it mean I might do the same?”

“I sincerely doubt it,” said Dr. Vandermer, edging toward the door. “Leave the name of your mother’s doctor with Nancy and we’ll call and find out the details. Meanwhile, I plan to do a simple chromosomal study on you. But I don’t think there is anything to worry about.”

“What about an amniocentesis?” asked Jennifer.

“At this point I don’t think there is any need for such a procedure, and even if there were, it couldn’t be done before your sixteenth week. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ll see you in a month.”

“What about an abortion?” asked Jennifer anxiously. She didn’t want Dr. Vandermer to leave. “If we decide not to have this child, is it difficult to arrange for an abortion?”

Dr. Vandermer, who’d had a hand on the door, stepped back in front of Jennifer, towering over her. “If you are interested in an abortion, I think that you are seeing the wrong doctor.”

“I’m not saying that I want one,” said Jennifer, cowering beneath his glare. “It’s just that this isn’t a good time for me to be pregnant, as you said yourself. I haven’t told Adam yet and I don’t know what his reaction will be. We depend on my income.”

“I don’t do abortions unless there’s a medical reason for it,” said Dr. Vandermer.

Jennifer nodded. The man obviously felt strongly about the issue. To change the subject she asked, “What about my working? I’m a dancer. How long will I be able to continue to work?”

“ Nancy will discuss such questions with you,” said Dr. Vandermer, glancing at his watch. “She knows more about that kind of stuff than I do. Now, if there is nothing else…” Dr. Vandermer moved away from the examination table.

“There is one other thing,” said Jennifer. “I’ve been nauseous in the morning. Is that normal?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Vandermer, opening the door to the corridor. “Such nausea is present in at least fifty percent of pregnancies. Nancy will give you some suggestions on handling it by altering your diet.”

“Isn’t there something I could take?” asked Jennifer.

“I don’t believe in using medication for morning sickness unless it’s interfering with the mother’s nutrition. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in a month.”

Before Jennifer could say another word, Dr. Vandermer was out the door. He closed it behind him, leaving Jennifer with Nancy.

“Diet is a very important part of pregnancy,” said Nancy, handing Jennifer several sheets of printed material.

Jennifer sighed and let her eyes drop from the closed door to the sheets of paper in her hands. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions.