Mark has eaten too much, and is in the hospital.
|Mark groaned, clutched his abdomen, for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Jen regarded him fondly, raised her eyebrows and sighed.
She’d told him it was a bad idea. But over the course of half an hour he’d downed three hot dogs, a large bucket of fries, and to cap it all off, a strawberry milkshake. It was the milkshake that had done it, really. Over his shoulder, a monitor blinked and beeped. A trolley of scary-looking medical equipment sat waiting beside the bed. Before Jen could stop him, Mark pressed the call button. A nurse entered the room, her shoes squeaking on the floor.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
Mark frowned, sighed, and said, “I think I need pain relief.”
The nurse laughed. He’s not going to like that, thought Jen.
“Is there no sympathy to be had in this world?” he said, and gritted his teeth.
The nurse checked screens and typed in data. She touched Jen lightly on the arm and smiled.
“Everything’s going well,” she said.
“That’s easy for you to say,” muttered Mark. He reached for a tissue and wiped his forehead.
Jen watched her suffering husband. He was going to feel better soon, she hoped. He would have to! But she knew she was on her own for this contraction, the one she could feel building across her belly right now. She breathed, calm and ready for it to take hold, anticipating the moment when she would finally hold the tiny new addition to the family in her arms.