“That is an interesting take on the situation,” Celia said, shaking her head a little.
“Then you are not refusing to leave?” Margaret asked.
“No,” Jake told her. “As you can see, we are dressed and ready to go. I asked to speak with you so we could discuss the way we were spoken to and treated by your nurse Judy a few minutes ago and come up with a solution so that something like that does not happen when we return.”
Margaret’s eyes darkened a bit. “The way you were spoken to and treated?” she asked.
“Yes,” Jake said. “I don’t know if Judy dislikes us in particular or is just not a fan of the human race in general, but she clearly had an attitude about us from the moment she walked into the room and was not afraid to share her thoughts and opinions with us.”
The darkness in Margaret’s eyes got a little darker. Jake began to suspect that this was not the first such conversation that she had had regarding nurse Judy. She turned to the two security guards and told them that they could go. They went and shut the door behind them. She then turned back to Jake. “Tell me what happened, Mr. Kingsley.”
He laid it out for her. Laura, who was still fighting tears, put in a few contributions as well. Celia corroborated the story and expressed her opinion that she had never met a more unprofessional health care worker in her life.
Margaret sighed once the tale was told. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said. “I will have a word with Judy about this, of course.”
“You have your word with her,” Jake said. “That is not my concern. I understand that this is a he-said/she-said situation, that she is not going to agree with our version of events, and that you have no way to verify our story or hers. We’re not asking or expecting that she be fired or disciplined. What we are asking is that—number one—she not be the one assigned to us when we return.”
“I will absolutely see to that,” Margaret promised. “She likely will not even be on shift when you return anyway.”
“Cool,” Jake said, “but that’s only number one. Number two: I trust we will be treated with dignity and respect by whoever is assigned to us when we do return.”
“We try to treat everyone with dignity and respect,” Margaret assured them.
“A good goal that you just failed in,” Jake said. “We understand that a lot of people in this town don’t care for us. We’re rich musicians who live up on a cliff outside of town and probably have drug and sex orgies up there on a nightly basis and fly our noisy airplane over the town all the time waking people up. We corrupt America’s youth, we advocate Satanism and are trying to destroy any family value that exists. The fact that we donate heavily to a variety of town projects, school programs, and law enforcement support groups is only because we’re trying to make you like us. We get it. We’re unlikable people.”
“Nobody is saying anything like that, Mr. Kingsley,” Margaret assured him.
“A whole bunch of people are saying things like that, Margaret,” Jake said. “And Judy just spouted off some of it to us a few minutes ago. That’s fine. We’re not here to try to change anyone’s opinion of us. We’re here to have a baby—our first baby. And even if your staff thinks this baby was conceived at one of those sex orgies we have, or that Bigg G is the one who actually fathered it, are we not entitled to the respect and compassion that any other expectant couple in this facility is entitled to?”
“Of course you are,” she said.
“Thank you,” Jake said. “I am sure that we are not the first couple having their first baby who has showed up here before meeting the parameters for admission, correct?”
“Correct,” she said. “It is a daily occurrence, as a matter of fact, and not just with the first-timers.”
“And are all these women treated the way we were just treated?” Jake asked.
“No,” she said. “They are not.”
“Very good,” Jake said. “All we are asking is to be treated like everyone else. We are not asking for special treatment because we’re rich and famous, just normal, everyday respect. It does not even have to be sincere. Just give us someone who can fake it well and will not make my wife feel like she did something wrong or accuse us of being unfit for parenthood.”
“I will make sure that this experience will not be repeated,” Margaret promised. “And, once again, I apologize for what happened and I assure you I will be speaking to Judy as soon as I leave this room.”
“Very good,” Jake said. He turned to Laura. “Does that work for you, hon?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “That works for me.”
“Okay,” Jake said. “We’ll be on our way then.”
It was well after Judy’s shift ended—nearly nine o’clock that evening—before Laura’s contractions met the parameters established. She grunted and groaned and was generally uncomfortable for hours, switching between sitting on the couch, laying down in bed, even taking a bath. Elsa and Celia both fussed over her as much as Laura would allow them to. Jake notified everyone who needed to be notified that Laura was in labor—G and Neesh, Joey and his family, Pauline and Obie, Matt, even Bobby Z—and tried to get a little sleep but was unable.
Finally, the time came that the contractions were consistently five minutes apart and one minute in duration. They did not wait for this condition to actually go on for a complete hour (“that’s sixty minutes,” nurse Judy told them), but only long enough to determine it was, in fact, continuing. Jake, Celia, and Laura then got back in the Lexus and drove back to Baptist of SLO.
The nurse assigned to them this time was the complete opposite of Judy the grump. Her name was Danielle, and she was a young, pretty brunette with a baby bump of her own and a modest diamond ring on her left ring finger. She proclaimed that she was a huge Celia Valdez fan who had seen her in concert in Los Angeles on both tours and loved Laura on the saxophone. She was also a Jake Kingsley fan though she had not been able to go to the TSF because she was a new nurse and had been working that weekend, but had seen Intemperance during the Lines on the Map tour back when she had been in high school. Her mother thought, to this day, she declared proudly, that she had been at a sleepover with her friend, which she had been, but Mom did not know the sleepover was in a Los Angeles hotel room because they were going to a heavy metal concert. She told them it was an honor to take care of them and she hoped that Laura would deliver before her shift ended at 7:00 AM so she could be a part of it.
Laura only spent about fifteen minutes in the triage room this time, just long enough for Danielle to determine that she was indeed contracting five minutes apart and that they were indeed lasting a minute or more and that she was now dilated to four centimeters and sixty percent effaced. At that point, the three of them were moved to one of the elaborate birthing suits and Laura was tucked in and hooked up to all the devices in there. Danielle then started an IV on her and told them that she was going to call Dr. Niven and give her an update.
“What about the epidural?” Laura asked. On the advice of Pauline, Sharon, and Dr. Niven, she had decided she wanted one. Her decision was reinforced by the pain she was feeling and the knowledge that it would only get worse as the experience went on. She had come to the realization that she was not a fan of pain.
“I’ll call the anesthesiologist once I talk to Dr. Niven,” she promised. “Hopefully we can get that going in the next hour or so.”
“How far out do you think we are from this?” Jake asked her.
“It’s hard to say for sure,” Danielle said, pulling from the depths of her fourteen months of experience as an L&D nurse, “but I would guess four or five hours.”
They accepted this. She went off to make her phone calls, leaving Laura to contract away and Jake and Celia to hold her hands and watch the monitor screen.