Hot Pepper, Second Part

Sounds of running water and dishes being collected reach my ears from the kitchen. I still need to pee. There is no getting around it, I have to get up. 

I heave myself into a sitting position, feeling like an eighty-year-old. When I stand, I feel another, but smaller, gush. I make it to the bathroom. The pad in my panties sports a bright red stain. At least it isn’t drenched. When I get up from the toilet, the liquid in the bowl is pink, not yellow. I change the pad and return to the sofa.

Sylvia comes from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a red and white checkered kitchen towel.

“I told you to stay put,” she says in her best strict nurse voice. “What are you doing, walking around?”

“I had to go bathroom,” I say. “Sitting on Marit’s potty would just be too humiliating.” I try to smile at my joke, but it didn’t feel right. 

Sylvia doesn’t smile. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “Have you called the doctor?”

“I was thinking about it. But he’d just repeat what he said the last three times. Stay in bed and let nature take its course. I don’t want to let nature take its course. This child is alive and has a personality and I want it!”

Sylvia sits in the easy chair by the sofa. “I don’t know what help it will be,” she says, “But I read somewhere if you drink a quarter teaspoon of Cayenne pepper in water every time you want a drink, it helps your body constrict the blood vessels. The article said it could stop unexpected bleeding.”

“Cayenne pepper?” My mouth puckers at the thought. “I guess I can see how it might do that. Maybe I should try it. Anything is better than this helpless waiting for my child to die.”

“Do you have any?”

“I do. It’s in the cupboard over the stove.”

“Do you want to give it a try?”

“I really do.”

“I’ll get you a glass with pure water, too, so you can rinse the heat from your mouth.”

Sylvia disappears into the kitchen and I hear her dig in the cupboard. “I found it,” she yells.

A moment later she returns with two glasses, one with plain water, the other one half full, with pink flecks swirling in it.

I sit up. 

“Drink it quickly,” she says and gives it to me.

“Duh,” I answer and down the hot stuff with great gulps.

Instantly my mouth burns. “Water, Water,” I gasp and drink most of the water in the other glass. 

I lie down again. At least this time, when I had sat up I felt no blood gush. Maybe that was a good sign already. 

Sylvia makes another cayenne concoction, sets it on the table with more fresh water, and puts a sandwich, covered with plastic wrap, next to it.

“That’s your lunch. I’m gonna take Marit with me,” she declares. “You stay put. When Gary comes home, have him come and get her. That way I can make sure you’re not exerting yourself.”

“Thanks so much. You’re such a good friend.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Sylvia says. She grabs Mike under one arm and collects Marit, who is trying to climb the TV. “Let’s go to my house. I have many places for you to climb,” she says.

“Mamma, mamma,” Marit calls, but there is no heart in it. She doesn’t even turn to look at me. I think she is looking forward to a new climbing experience. 

The door clicks shut. I relax. Maybe Marit will be a famous mountain climber one day, I think. And who knows what a great contribution to humankind my new baby will make?

I doze off.

When Gary returns that night, he takes over and insists I stay on the sofa. By the time I go to bed, the bleeding is diminished to spotting. The next few days I keep spotting, and faithfully take the hot, unpleasant medicine in hopes it will keep me from losing this child I so want. By the end of the week the bleeding stops. I quit drinking cayenne pepper two weeks later.

I have no idea if it was the cayenne, or if God had mercy on me. Whatever the reason, little Liesel is born four months later, in perfect health. Besides a very sweet disposition, she also has a talent. She is a smooth talker and won several awards in forensics in high school.

 That's Liesel today!

But I don’t believe the pepper caused that.