I'm Going to Kill Him Later!           

                                                  June 1989

 I’m checking into the hospital later this evening to have my son. I’ve called my boss to inform her that my maternity leave has officially started. I cleaned my house from top to bottom and called my mom. I packed the girls up and took them to Lilly’s house. The doctor informed me during my visit earlier this afternoon that I have dilated three centimeters and that I would have to deliver by Cesarean section. When I asked him why, he hesitated uncomfortably, then passed me a file containing my medical records and told me we could talk after I read it. I was puzzled by his behavior and began to read the file for answers. The file dated back to 1987 when I first came to him during my pregnancy with Melanie. I read about my bout with cervical cancer, but as I continued to read, it began to dawn on me why he had given me the file and time alone to read it. Curtis had come to him when I was about seven months pregnant with Melanie, he was asking to be treated for gonorrhea! He had informed my doctor that he had given it to me and begged my doctor to treat me without telling me why. Against his better judgment my OB/GYN had felt sorry for Curtis, who claimed that he loved me and feared losing his family and church, and agreed to give me antibiotic shots without telling me what they were for. Together they had made up the story about me having some hormonal imbalance and tricked me into treatment. The file further stated Curtis confessed that he had gotten the disease from a woman he’d slept with while conducting a revival. My doctor had also retrieved my medical records from the doctor who had delivered Kerrie. In those files I noted that he too had treated me without my knowledge for STD’s. I read on and to my horror I found out that, as I sat there reading my file, I was polluted with gonorrhea, hence the C-Section delivery. A new born coming down the birth canal of a woman with gonorrhea would cause blindness to the baby. I was in shock. I was embarrassed. Since leaving the doctor's office I have been operating on remote control. I have turned my emotions off. I feel dirty. I sat in the doctor's office today stunned, no longer able to deny that my husband’s cheating was slapping me in the face. Not only had he cheated, but he had given me a venereal disease during every one of my pregnancies! Tears streamed down my face as I sat there naked, except for a hospital gown, all alone with my swollen belly and feet dangling. Memories began to flood my mind and I recalled all the times I had come to the doctor and been subjected to his strange questions and unorthodox advice. I remembered my doctor asking me more than once if I ever went on revivals with my husband. I recalled him encouraging me to accompany Curtis on his trips out of town. I recalled him asking me if I had ever cheated on my husband. At the time I was puzzled by his comments and questions. I hadn’t known then if he was coming on to me or if it was his bedside manner, but now I realized why he’d spoken to me the way he had. I remembered those painful shots in each of my buttocks when I was carrying Melanie and being told they were administered to get my hormones back on track. I remembered the night Curtis had come back from a week long revival and I had nearly jumped his bones with excitement when he walked in the door only to be pushed off because he said he had a cold. I’d accused him of making excuses for not wanting to make love to me and pouted and cried until he relented and had sex with me. He had been trying to protect me from the STD that night but I wouldn’t leave him alone. He should have left me alone and let me be angry rather than give me a disease. I remembered all those painful sores covering my vagina while I was pregnant with Kerrie. My doctor came back into the room and asked me if I wanted to talk. I was embarrassed and shook my head “no”. Talk about what? My doctor and my husband were liars and had betrayed me. My file had spoken loud and clear. As I sat there humiliated and dumb-founded my doctor apologized for violating the doctor patient trust and told me that he would understand whatever action I decided to take against his office. I left the doctor’s office in a daze. I am still in a daze. There is a quiet fury within me that I refuse to give rise to. I am fuming with the doctor who is about to deliver my child and I hate Curtis for jeopardizing my child’s health. But I cannot feel those emotions right now. I am having a baby. I am on auto-pilot. I am in survival mode. I won’t say anything to Curtis about my doctor’s revelations until after my son’s birth. I do not want my child to enter the world amidst fighting parents and chaos. I want to give birth to him in a calm and peaceful atmosphere. I want Curtis to be there to help me through the delivery. I checked into the hospital at the appointed hour and settled into my birthing room with my husband attentively beside me. As he sits looking at me write, he has no idea that I am planning to kill him when this is all over. He smiles at me and I smile back. I don’t know who he is. There is no crowd of preachers and their wives this time, just the two us. We agreed that immediately after the baby’s birth I would have my tubes not tied, but burned. We talked and watched television as I dilated to ten centimeters, and now it is time for my surgery.