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just_1_word: 2.5 Oblivious
Saturday, 25 October 2008 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doctortara
2.5. Oblivious
Co-written with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drcampbell
Tara was about to pour the boiled water into the teapot when she had to put the kettle back down on the kitchen counter to press a hand to her stomach. “Shit,” she gasped and leaned forward, letting a slow breath out. She and her husband had battled through three days of the stomach flu together but even though the dilemma of which end to aim at the toilet first had passed, the crampy stomach just wouldn’t let up. She moved to the sink and filled a glass from the drying rack with water and gulped him down.
Lachlan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the side of her neck and watched the water disappear at rapid pace. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. “Is your stomach still hurting? Why dinnae you go sit down and I’ll make the tea?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but no.” Tara scrunched her nose up with a sigh. “It’s sore, but I don’t really feel sick anymore. Probably just strained from all that puking. It comes and goes anyway, but I’m not turning down the offer of you making the tea,” she added, throwing him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.
“Comes and goes in what way? How often? How severe? Is the pain higher up or lower down?” Lachlan reeled off, his forehead forming into a small frown. He put his hand on her forehead, but the fever there over the previous days was gone.
Tara rinsed the empty glass again and put it back in the rack. There was still hope in her husband’s doctoring skills yet. She turned back to him with a smile. “I’m fine, beautiful. It’s just some lingering–” she cut off with a gasp and grabbed her stomach again. “Cramps,” she finished, gritting her teeth. The pain clenched in her gut with a little bit more intensity this time and she tried to breathe out through it as it ebbed away again.
Lachlan stared at her with wide eyes. “Is your back sore?”
“What? It’s always sore lately. I’m carrying around a huge bump on the front of me. Well, not exactly huge yet, but it’s big enough to be uncomfortable and I’ve spent days kneeling in front of toilet, so yeah, it’s sore.” Tara rubbed at her stomach. She decided she was taking back her earlier analysis. Maybe she did still feel a little sick. No sooner had she come to this conclusion was she abruptly leaning over the sink vomiting again.
Lachlan expertly held her hair back out of her face, more than experienced in this certain husbandly duty over the past few months. “We need to get you to the hospital, darlin’. I need you to try not to panic, but we have to get you to the hospital. Now.”
“What?” Tara cried from where she was hunched over the sink. “Why?”
“Because the cramps and back pain might be labour, Tara. Something might be wrong with the baby,” Lachlan choked out, drawing on even the smallest bit of strength in him to even drag the words to fruition.
Word Count | 520
Co-written with
drcampbellTara was about to pour the boiled water into the teapot when she had to put the kettle back down on the kitchen counter to press a hand to her stomach. “Shit,” she gasped and leaned forward, letting a slow breath out. She and her husband had battled through three days of the stomach flu together but even though the dilemma of which end to aim at the toilet first had passed, the crampy stomach just wouldn’t let up. She moved to the sink and filled a glass from the drying rack with water and gulped him down.
Lachlan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the side of her neck and watched the water disappear at rapid pace. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. “Is your stomach still hurting? Why dinnae you go sit down and I’ll make the tea?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but no.” Tara scrunched her nose up with a sigh. “It’s sore, but I don’t really feel sick anymore. Probably just strained from all that puking. It comes and goes anyway, but I’m not turning down the offer of you making the tea,” she added, throwing him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.
“Comes and goes in what way? How often? How severe? Is the pain higher up or lower down?” Lachlan reeled off, his forehead forming into a small frown. He put his hand on her forehead, but the fever there over the previous days was gone.
Tara rinsed the empty glass again and put it back in the rack. There was still hope in her husband’s doctoring skills yet. She turned back to him with a smile. “I’m fine, beautiful. It’s just some lingering–” she cut off with a gasp and grabbed her stomach again. “Cramps,” she finished, gritting her teeth. The pain clenched in her gut with a little bit more intensity this time and she tried to breathe out through it as it ebbed away again.
Lachlan stared at her with wide eyes. “Is your back sore?”
“What? It’s always sore lately. I’m carrying around a huge bump on the front of me. Well, not exactly huge yet, but it’s big enough to be uncomfortable and I’ve spent days kneeling in front of toilet, so yeah, it’s sore.” Tara rubbed at her stomach. She decided she was taking back her earlier analysis. Maybe she did still feel a little sick. No sooner had she come to this conclusion was she abruptly leaning over the sink vomiting again.
Lachlan expertly held her hair back out of her face, more than experienced in this certain husbandly duty over the past few months. “We need to get you to the hospital, darlin’. I need you to try not to panic, but we have to get you to the hospital. Now.”
“What?” Tara cried from where she was hunched over the sink. “Why?”
“Because the cramps and back pain might be labour, Tara. Something might be wrong with the baby,” Lachlan choked out, drawing on even the smallest bit of strength in him to even drag the words to fruition.
Word Count | 520