Free Vital Signs by Robin Cook Page B

go.”

“How old was she?” Marissa asked.

“Thirty-three, I believe,” Dr. Wingate said.

“A tragic loss of a young life. And I’m concerned about its effect on other patients.

Infertility is an emotional struggle for everyone involved. I’m sure it didn’t help your state of mind seeing Mrs. Ziegler’s outburst in the waiting room.”

“I identified with her,” Marissa admitted. Especially now, Marissa thought, hearing about the woman’s marital problems. She and Rebecca were even close in age.

“Please don’t say that,” Dr. Wingate said.

“On a happier note, let’s look forward to a successful embryo transfer. It’s important to stay positive.”

“I’ll try,” Marissa said.

After hanging up the phone, Marissa was glad for having brought up the topic of the suicide. Merely having talked about it eased the impact to a degree.

Getting out of bed, Marissa pulled on her robe, and went down the hall to Robert’s study. She found him seated at his computer console. He glanced up as Marissa came into the room.

“They all fertilized,” Marissa said as she sat on a love seat below a wall of built-in bookshelves.

“That’s encouraging,” Robert said. He was looking at her over the top of his half-glasses.

“That’s the first hurdle,” she said.

“Now all they have to do is to get one of the embryos to stick in my uterus.”

“Easier said than done,” Robert said. He was already looking back at his computer screen.

“Can’t you be just a tiny bit supportive?” Marissa asked.

Robert looked back at her.

“I’m starting to think that my being supportive and not telling you what I’m thinking has just encouraged you to keep beating your head against a wall. I’ve still got serious questions about this whole process. If it works this time, fine; but I don’t want to see you setting yourself up for another disappointment.” He turned back to his screen.

For a moment Marissa didn’t say anything. As much as she hated to admit it at the moment, Robert was making sense. She was afraid of getting too hopeful herself.

“Have you thought any more about the idea of counseling?”

Marissa asked.

Robert turned to Marissa a third time.

“No,” he said.

“I told you, I’m not interested in going to a counselor. There has already been too much interference in our lives. Part of the problem for me is that we have lost our private life. I feel like a fish in a fishbowl.”

“Dr. Wingate told me that one of the reasons the woman who killed herself today did so was because she and her husband did not seek counseling.”

“Is this some kind of not-so-veiled threat?” Robert asked.

“Are you telling me you’re thinking of diving off the roof of the Women’s Clinic if I don’t agree to see one of their counselors?”

“No!” Marissa said heatedly.

“I’m just telling you what he told me. The woman and her husband were having difficulties. Counseling was recommended. They didn’t go. Apparently they broke up, which is one of the things that made the woman so upset.”

“And counseling would have solved everything?” Robert asked sarcastically.

“Not necessarily,” Marissa said.

“But I doubt it would have hurt. I’m beginning to think that we should seek counseling whether we continue with the IVF or not.”

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“What do I have to say to you?” Robert asked.

“I’m not interested in spending time and money on a counselor. I know why I’m upset and unhappy. I don’t need someone else to tell me.”

“And you don’t want to try to work on it?” asked Man*ssa. She hesitated to say “together.”

“I don’t think a counselor is the way to work on it,” Robert said.

“You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what is wrong. Anyone would feel stressed out by what we’ve been through in the past few months. Some things in life you have to deal with. Others you don’t. And we don’t have to deal with this infertility therapy anymore, if we