At death’s door.

By NavyRigger - Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I felt my face grow warm as my temper flared, and glared at the doctor. The doctor visibly recoiled as I stared her down.

“Doc, let’s assume I am just stupid and have no idea what you’re talking about. Please, enlighten me as to what is in my blood that makes me unable to save his life,” I said sharply.

She flipped a page up on her clipboard, “Based on your test results, you have elevated hCG levels that automatically make you unable to donate blood. We stopped testing after that.”

My mind raced as I tried to remember what chemical in the blood was hCG. Suddenly, I remembered sitting in high school biology, my junior year, and discussing the reproductive system of the human body.

“You mean to tell me that I am,” I couldn’t even say the word myself.

“Pregnant,” the doctor finished the sentence for me, “Judging by the quantitative test results, I’d put you at around four weeks along.”

Four weeks. Four weeks, almost to the day, I’d lured Kurt over to the house and changed our lives together forever. Four weeks ago was the first time Kurt ever came inside of me. Part of me was gripped with fear that this child might never know its real father, the other part of me was elated that I was pregnant, and with Kurt’s baby. Another part of me entirely was paralyzed with fear.

“But I, how, I mean, ” I jumped out of my chair and started to pace around the room, “Doc, are you sure those are my results?”

“I’m 100% positive these are your results.”

“No, no, no. No,” I said as I started to panic covering my mouth with my hands, “I can’t be pregnant. I’ve been on birth control for the past three years. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I mean I am happy I am pregnant, but this was not supposed to be how it happened!”

I dropped to my knees and cried. The hurricane of emotions in my chest was too much for me to handle. I needed Kurt to wake up and hold me. I need him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“Mrs. Thompson? Are you okay?”

I stood up and put my hands on my head, and continued to pace the room, “No. No, I am not. You just told me I am pregnant, and there is no doubt in my head that the father is not my husband, but Kurt. So no, I am not okay. You pretty much told me that the father of my baby and the man I am secretly in love with is going to die unless you can find a donor for a transfusion!”

The doctor’s eyes were wide with surprise as she absorbed what I’d just told her, “Mrs. Renolds, I, uh, Mrs. Thompson, I am sorry but we are doing everything we can. Unless you know someone else who is an O-positive blood type that might be able to donate, we are doing everything we can at this time.”

O-positive. No, Kurt would kill me. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Alarms blared as Kurt’s hospital room was filled with the screams and beeping of monitors. The doctor shoved me out of the way as she assessed the situation.

“Ma'am I am going to need you to clear the room,” the doctor said as she grabbed my arm and escorted me out of the room before she turned her head and yelled down towards the nurses’ station, “Code Blue, Room Thirty-Nine, Stat!”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and unlocked the screen. With shaky fingers, I navigated to my contacts list. Nurses rushed past me into Kurt’s hospital room as the world seemed to slow around me. I tapped Ronny’s name on the contact list, and the phone started to dial.

Ring.

Kurt already hated me. I guess he was going to have to hate me some more.

Ring.

I shared my vows with Ronny, but right now, Kurt was the one I loved for better or worse.

Ring.

Pick up you selfish prick!

“Hello,” Ronny’s gruff voice filled the phone and my heart stopped, "Riza? What’s up, dear? I’m busy at the moment.”

“Ronny, I need you to come home. Right now.”

“You know I can’t. I am in the middle of finishing up this project,” he said, irritation and annoyance thick as butter in his voice.

“Ronny, Kurt is sick, really sick. It’s bad. He needs a blood transfusion of O-positive blood or he’s going to die,” I didn’t even try to hide the fact I was on the verge of tears.

For several ...