Two days later we drove to Prescott to the Planned Parenthood office there. Everything was very new, clean, and modern; it seemed clear to me that the facility hadn’t been open for very long. I peed in a cup and had them check my blood and all my other vitals.
“You’re definitely pregnant,” the doctor told me. “Looks like around nine weeks. I’d like to schedule an ultrasound in the next week or so, just to fine-tune things. Do you have a doctor closer to home you’d like to see, or do you want to come back here?”
“I — I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Can I call back in a few days to set that up?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Everything is looking fine, and you’re in perfect health otherwise, so an extra day or two isn’t going to make much of a difference.”
I thanked her, and then she left me to
