Note: I edited this particulary episode several times before I got it just right.
See through serial 13 in the serial section.
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The waiting room of St. Francis Hospital was packed with patients on Monday morning.

For the past four years, when they were students they'd gone to the student clinic but now that they were no longer students. Even though there were other hospitals in town, they'd decided to come to St. Francis because her father, who had been involved and participated in nursing workshops and seminars at the hospital, always spoke very highly of it.

The shrill cries of a baby ripped through the quiet waiting room. Even though the infant's mother tried to placate him with a pacifier or toys or by rocking and singing to him softly, the baby just wouldn't stop crying.

He sensed the frustration and embarrassment the mother felt by trying to keep her baby quiet. Realization crept up within him -- having a child was both a trial and tribulation -- and a lot work.

Wearing a thoughtful expression on his face, his knuckles rested on his lips while his thumb turned his wedding band on his right ring finger. Maybe having a child wasn't such a good idea. If he'd had a child, then he'd be responsible for keeping him or her quiet in public places like this. If the mother in the waiting room was having a hard time keeping, he wouldn't have an easier time.

He admired this mother's love, dedication and composure, especially under pressure. But he wasn't sure he would be able to handle this same situation as well as she had if their roles had been reversed.

Finally quieting her child with tiny cookie crackers shaped like animals, the woman's gaze slowly lifted until it met his. The young mother smiled softly at him, and he quickly adverted his eyes.

He slumped back into the plastic waiting room chair. A mixture of shock, guilt and self-chiding filled him. He couldn't imagine Lathal like this. Not that Lathal wasn't good with children, and it wasn't because Lathal wouldn't be a good mother -- it was just that he saw Lathal as his wife, as a journalist, as a writer, as a strong, independent, goal-oriented woman, and then as a mother somewhere in the distant future.

And what about him as a father? He cringed with a mixture of fear, selfishness and doubt. He was an actor and he could play any role; being a father, there was a role he had to be, not play.

Both of them had rather demanding and stressful jobs. She covered dangerous assignments, had constant deadlines and worked late nights putting the paper to bed. He had lines and blocking to memorize, regular rehearsals, productions and post production, which meant he got home late -- well after midnight -- too. Was he really willing to adjust his schedule or sacrifice accomplishing all he could in his career because of a child? If he wasn't willing to make sacrifices, then he shouldn't make her sacrifice her dreams and goals for a child. Maybe it was OK like he had told her to be selfish.

Maybe she was right. Neither of them were ready for a child. They didn't know how much responsibility and work a child was -- and maybe they couldn't handle it. Maybe he be better not rush them into having a child. Maybe he'd better give this matter some more thought...

"Malan?" She quietly called to him.

"Hmm?" He murmured distractedly, shaking himself from his reverie.

"Are you OK?" She said concerned.

"Yeah," he said managing a weak smile.

She reached for his hand, holding it in hers. She said softly, "What is it, Malan?"

She knew him too well, but some of his perceptive intuition was rubbing off on her too. He sighed, "Lathal, I..."

"Malan and Lathal Hamel?" An unfamiliar gentle voice requested.

They looked up at the man whose eye color matched his wavy dark brown hair who had his stethoscope casually wrapped around his neck. He was wearing blue jeans beneath his white medical jacket. A daisy laid his name tag clipped onto his medical jacket lapel.

Even though he was in his late 30s, he looked too young to be a doctor.

"Are you an intern?" Lathal asked skeptically.

"No," he said politely as he extended his hand, smiling at them. "I'm Dr. Andrew Goodman. I'm one of the family medical practioners here."

Family, that word grated, Malan thought with a frown that matched the one she wore on her lips.

Dr. Goodman let the moment pass and then he gestured to them. "Well, if you'd both be so kind to come with me."

They followed him down the corridors to his office. There was a metal exam table covered with a white piece of paper, a white curtain hanging on a mobile frame and an extensive counter filled with medications, hospital gowns, towels, syringes and other medical supplies in the medium-sized office.

Sitting in his cushioned chair, Goodman gestured to the empty chairs in front of his oak desk. "Have a seat."

They complied. Their tense posture and serious expressions indicated how awkward and nervous they felt about being there.

Goodman understood this and got right down to business. He folded his hands over the papers on his desk. "How can I help you today?"

They exchanged looks. They didn't quite know how to approach this situation.

"It's unusual for me to see a husband and a wife together," Goodman said casually, "But considering your case I'm glad you both came together."

They didn't reply. It was almost as if this was a new experience to them and neither of them knew what to do in the situation; it was his job to help them through this.

"I've never seen either of you before, have I?" Goodman said trying to break the ice.

He cleared his throat, "No, we went to the student clinic on North Central Texas University."

"The doctors there are really good," Goodman said nodding. "So why didn't you go there today?"

"We're not students anymore," he told the doctor. "We graduated in December."

"Congratulations," Goodman said. "What made you come here then?"

"My father was a nurse. He was involved and participated in nursing seminars and workshops here. He always spoke highly of this hospital," she said.

"Your father was a nurse?" Goodman commented.

"Yes," she confirmed. "He died six months ago."

"I'm sorry," Goodman said heartfeltly.

"It's OK," she said.

Changing the subject to a more pleasant one, Goodman said, "How long have you two been married?"

"We got married on Saturday," he said.

"Congratulations. Marriage can be such a blissful experience. I would know I've been married for eight years," Goodman said warmly, rubbing his wedding band. "How long did you two date before you were married?"

She appreciated that Dr. Goodman was trying to make them feel comfortable and at home, but it wasn't working. She had always felt nervous about visiting the doctor; it was no different this time.

In the past she suspected she might have been a hypochondriac even though she'd never been diagnosed. In her youth, she regularly vomited after seeing the doctor. She was smart enough to know doctors were there to help, not hurt people, but she was afraid of them.

She first realized she had a problem in fifth grade when she and her classmates had to watch a film about scoliosis. The film scared her to death. She refused to eat, had difficulty sleeping and isolated herself from her family and friends. Concerned her parents took her to a psychiatrist.

She went to the psychiatrist for six months. After she had been checked for scoliosis, learning she didn't have the curvature of the spine, she was fine. So she didn't have to see the psychiatrist anymore because he said she didn't have a problem.

But that wasn't true. She continued to be afraid of doctors throughout high school. She had a bad case of acne and the school had scoliosis checkups too.

She developed a more mature attitude about doctors in college. Still, she felt uncomfortable seeing a doctor. To her, visiting a doctor meant something was wrong. And in her present situation, she really didn't want anything to be wrong.

She'd never told Malan how uncomfortable doctors made her. She supposed she should tell him ... but she hadn't had to before. This was the first time they'd gone to the doctor together.

Her throat felt dry. She swallowed hard, "What we'd really like to know if we're able to have children or not."

"Right," Goodman nodded. "To determine that, there are a few standard questions I have to ask both of you."

"Fine," she said as he silently nodded in agreement.

To her, Goodman said, "Do you have any health problems, Lathal?"

"Other than being blinder than a bat because I got my parent's bad vision thanks to heredity," she joked. Since Goodman didn't see her wearing glasses he concluded she wore contacts. "No."

"Has anyone in your family ever had problems conceiving children, Lathal?" Goodman inquired.

"My mother was the oldest of seven children, I'm the oldest of three sisters and my sister, Ginger, who is 18 months younger than I am, has a child, so that's a big no," she said.

"Lathal, are your monthly periods regular?" Goodman mused.

"I'm sorry, what does that mean?" She said, her voice lightly crackled in wary concern.

What is wrong with me? She felt badly for snapping at him, but worry held her firmly in its grip. She typically wasn't this aggressive or confrontational with people, not even doctors, even though she didn't like them.

She'd just been feeling more hostile lately. This usually happened before and during her period. Did her aggressive, hostile behavior mean she'd be getting her monthly visitor as usual? Or did her mood mean something else -- like she was pregnant? She tensed hoping it wasn't the latter.

Her fingers nervously twirled the curled end of her hair. "Yes, my periods are regular. Believe me, if they weren't I'd have already been to see the doctor." Her voice shook. She sounded edgy and raw.

Goodman had observed Lathal's shaky behavior. The joke she'd made earlier came off badly. Earlier she'd been wringing her hands nervously, but now she'd steadied her shaking knees by sticking her hands between them. Her eyes darted like a frightened animal around the room.

She's scared, Goodman knew, and whatever she's scared of has nothing to do with child bearing. The doctor was aware people typically felt nervous at the doctor, so he felt the best approach would be to gently reassure her there was nothing to fear.

Goodman said, his tone was gentle, supportive and understanding. "When was your last period?"

"April 12th," she told him. "I expect my period any day now."

"Lathal, we both know you can get pregnant between your menstruations," Goodman said, the side of his lip curved into an awkward smile. "I think, for both our peace of minds, that you should let me do a pregnancy test. It's quick and simple and I'll have the results in five minutes."

Lathal was bewildered. Right now she wasn't thinking straight, and she had no clue what to do. "Honestly, Sir, what good what that do now?"

"You may be pregnant and still get your period -- that happens to a lot of women, especially if it's their first child," Goodman explained. "This will be your first child, won't it?"

"Yes!" She said emphatically, then demanded. "I think it might be a good idea if I took birth control pills."

Goodman was surprised when her husband didn't even flinch when she made the suggestion. If he had been her husband, he might have been slightly upset or hurt by such a request. But Malan had just sat there. He taken it so coolly and collectively, so obviously they'd had this discussion.

"That can be arranged, but you both realize that birth control pills won't prevent pregnancy. The only way to prevent pregnancy is abstinence," Goodman said, earning disgusted looks from both of them. "I know that isn't what either of you wanted to hear right now, but it's true."

To Lathal, the doctor said. "When did you have your last gynecology exam and PAP smear?"

"I brought my medical records if you want to see them," she extended the green folder toward him.

"I don't need to review them now," Goodman assured her. She had no reason to lie to him. "Have you ever been on birth control pills before?"

"Yes, I had acne when I was a teenager and instead of giving me accutane, the doctors put me on the pill. They wanted to use it but only as a last resort. Birth control pills seemed to work in clearing up my acne."
"Yes, I've heard of accutane," Goodman said. He knew it was a very serious drug. Some of the more harmful side effects was liver damage. If a person used accutane they had to have their blood monitored every two months to see how it was affecting them. "I'm aware of its side affects. Prescribing accutane before trying an alternative treatment is not a good idea. I'm glad you got a second opinion." The doctor paused. "Do you still take birth control pills?"

"No, I stopped talking them in 1990," she said, adding. "Without consulting a doctor."

Goodman nodded. It was her body and she had a right to do what she felt was best for her. "Before I prescribe birth control pills, I'll have to do a gyn and PAP smear."

A gyn exam and PAP smear unnerved her like it did most woman. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was terrified. She'd only had one gyn exam and PAP smear and that experience hadn't been pleasant, so she had no desire to repeat it. Leaning forward, she gently reminded him. "I told you my period is supposed to come any day now."

"As long as you don't have your period right now, I can do it," the doctor told her.

Great! Now there was no way to avoid it. She looked at him sheepishly. "We won't be living in Hallow Oaks after our honeymoon. We'll be in LA."

"That doesn't matter," Goodman casually gestured with his hand. He smiled. "I can call you with results, and I'll do better than that, I'll recommend a great doctor I know in LA."

"Thanks," she said dryly.

Turning his attention to her husband, Goodman teased, "Are you asleep over there, Malan?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Good." Goodman said. "Do you have any health problems, Malan?"

He said thoughtfully, "I have a mild case of fibromylagia that I've had since I was 14."

"That won't affect your fertility," Goodman said. "Has anyone in your family had any problems with infertility?"

"Not that I know of," he said. "Compared to her family, my family is fairly small. It's just my brother and I. My brother and his wife have a child."

Goodman nodded, "Have you ever had problems getting aroused or with ejaculation?"

Laughing his wife nearly fell out of her chair. Flushing in embarrassment, he said, "No."

"Well," Goodman's eyes twinkled in amusement. "I'll still have to give you both a blood test to rule out infertility."

The doctor rose and claimed a pair of sterile syringes from one of the drawers. She tensed. She despised needles. She grimaced as she extended her arm toward him, then turned her head. Goodman was extremely gentle with her. The prick only stung for a moment.

Malan watched Goodman draw his blood. She thought her husband had to be incredibly brave or crazy to watch. Needles and blood made her sick to her stomach.

"OK, Malan," Goodman lightly patted his back. "If you'd be so kind to wait in the main lobby while I conduct your wife's gyn exam."

"Sure," he said easily. He'd seen it all with his wife, but he was glad he didn't have to stick around for her "woman's" exam.

After her husband had left his office, Goodman picked up the phone hanging on the wall. He pressed a button. "Ms. Hammrick, can you please come to my office?"
"Yes, doctor," the nurse replied.

Goodman handed her a plastic cup with an orange strip marked stat on it and a gown. He pointed to the bathroom in the far corner of the examination room. "You'll find a metal drawer on the wall above the toilet. That's where you'll put your urine sample. Take off all your clothes and put on the gown, and then take a seat on the exam table."

She followed his instructions. She held the gown tightly against her naked body to maintain her sense of decency and propriety. She slowly sat on the coarse tissue paper covering the cushioned exam table. She tensed when she heard footsteps enter the room.

A middle aged woman, dressed in a white dress and hat, favored her with a smile. A second after the stranger entered Dr. Goodman re-entered the room. The doctor made introductions. "Ms. Hammrick, this is Mrs. Hamel."
"Lathal," she whispered.

Goodman smiled, "Lathal, this is my nurse Ms. Hammrick."
"How do you do?" Ms. Hammrick said politely.

She managed a weak smile and laid down on the table. She tightly wrapped her arms around herself to keep herself from trembling. She flinched when Goodman lightly touched her arm.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Lathal?" He said quietly.

Her voice quivered unsteadily. "I'm afraid."
"I know that," he said gently.

Tears moistened her eyelashes. "I'm afraid of you."

He knew she meant doctors. He glanced at his nurse. "Can we have a few moments alone please, Ms. Hammrick?"

The nurse nodded and left the room. Her whole body shook. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and fear. "I'm sorry. I don't why I'm so afraid of doctors. I just am."

"It's OK," he assured her. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"This is only the second time I've had this done. The first time," she shuddered. "Was horrible."

He nodded. Poor thing he could only imagine how traumatic the experience had been for her. He rubbed her arms sympathetically. "We're going to take it slow and easy. I'm going to tell you everything I'm doing before I do it. If you feel any discomfort or pain, you let me know."

He gave her arm a squeeze. "I'm going to let Ms. Hammrick in, OK?"

She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. He went to the door and called the nurse back in.

Mrs. Hammrick didn't say a word. The nurse quietly slid up beside Lathal, holding her hand comfortingly. Lathal appreciated the woman's kindness and strength.

The doctor gestured for her to shift her body downward. Then he guided her feet into the stirrups.

She tightly closed her eyes. He gently touched her, examining her breasts. The doctor's careful and kind touch felt very different from Malan's. While listening to Goodman she thought about pleasant things: the beach, forests, roses in bloom, home, family, friends, beautiful Germany, Malan.

"You're doing well, Lathal," Goodman complimented her. "You're spotting. That means you're very close to having your period."

"Does that mean I have to do this again?" She asked, praying she didn't have to.

"I don't think so," Goodman assured her. "Well, we're all done."

Sitting up, she hugged him. "Thank you."

His lips, touched with kindness, slanted sideways. He felt good. Maybe now she wouldn't be so afraid of doctors. The phone in his office rang. She went to dress in the bathroom while he answered it.

When she returned to the exam room, he gestured to the spot beside him on the exam table. "Sit down."

Utt oooh. Time to face the music. She took a deep breath to collect herself. Her inner strength returned. She steeled her nerves.

He came right to the point. "You're not pregnant."

Yes! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! She felt a great weight lift from her. She covered the smile spreading across her lips with her hand.She wanted to celebrate. She wanted to dance in the streets.

He had never seen someone so glad about not being pregnant. She's not ready, he knew. He briefly felt sorry for her husband. But they were a young couple so there was still plenty of time for them.

"You can pick up your birth control pills at the pharmacy," he said quietly. "If you have any problems with them, see a doctor as soon as possible."

"I will," she promised.
"Good luck, Lathal," he said handing her her medical records.

She went back down the corridor to the waiting room, where he sat reading a magazine. She lightly tapped his elbow.

He glanced up at her. "Are you OK?"

She was perfect. She wasn't pregnant. Then guilt flooded her. She'd have to figure out how she'd tell him, but she wasn't going to tell him here.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Let's go."

After paying the bill with the hospital's cashier, they were on the road to Carlsbad.