Too Clever By A Mile Ch 09

Chapter Nine: The Fragility of Life

One evening Steve took Cathy out to dinner and then to a movie. Dinner was nice. Steve had a sirloin and Cathy, careful about the baby she was carrying had a piece of fish. She supposed a steak would have been all right, but the lighter the meal, to her anyway, the better it was for the baby. She'd been having some nagging pains in her abdomen anyway, and always a little bit of a hypochondriac anyway, she decided to watch what she ate.

Yes, she'd been careful about what she ate, and what she did too. About the only strenuous thing she'd done was some time ago when she got in the pool with Steve and waded around a little bit. That had been a fairly safe activity, but Steve had gotten silly that day and insisted they fool around in the water. She remembered how he backed her up against the side of the pool down at the deep end and pushed himself inside her. She didn't like it much, the water had made her dry, and she liked his stupid humor even less, something about her sinking and drowning if he took it out. He made up for it later though when he got her in the house and pleasured her with his tongue. One thing about Steve; he sure knew where to put his tongue and his lips.

The movie hadn't been very good. Though it starred Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie it turned out to be a senseless thing about a tourist who really wasn't. She'd felt ill at ease through the whole showing. She wasn't that far along, but it was more than that.

When they got home she could tell Steve was feeling amorous. All the way home he'd kept pulling her close and caressing her neck. She still had a good time when they made love, but lately it had started to feel uncomfortable. Usually she could talk him out of anything that called for actual intromission, but tonight she was afraid he wanted to go the distance. If they did it would have to be side by side; she didn't want him on top of her anymore.

In the bedroom Cathy did all she could to thwart, or at least delay, her husband's advances. She took an extra-long time getting undressed. She pulled on a full length winter time long sleeved nightie. She over did it when she combed out her hair. In the bathroom she brushed her teeth twice, and put on a facial cream in the hopes the greasy otherworldly sheen would discourage him. She even took an extra-long poop hoping by the time she finished he'd be too tired.

She didn't pay any extra attention to the toilet paper. All toilet paper looked a little brown after that first wipe, and the slight brownish hue on the second wipe, even if it was just her vagina, didn't really bother her either.

At last she got out of the bathroom hoping to find Steve asleep, only to find him wide awake and the bed covers nicely tented. He hadn't even turned the lights out. Heck, she thought, 'he had a semi at least.' She never thought Angelina Jolie was that sexy, and Cathy knew she hadn't set the world on fire lately so it had to have been something in the popcorn. Oh well, there was no getting out of it; she'd have to do her womanly duty. She left the light on, trudged over and climbed awkwardly into bed.

Steve rolled over and reached down between her legs. He gave her puss a little wipe and pulled his fingers to his nose, "Ah my little turtle dove. You're so..." He stopped, a distracted he asked, "Did you wipe?"

She rolled her head over and looked at him, "Are you crazy? Of course I wiped."

He held up his fingers, "Well what's this?"

She looked at his fingers. First they smelled funny, and second they looked dirty. She sat up, "I better go check." Cathy climbed back out of bed and went to the bathroom. She was sure she was clean. She got back in bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat, and pulled up her nightie. Something wasn't right. There were traces of what had to be blood plus some kind of brownish mucus stuff. She called out, "Steve. Come here a minute honey."

Steve grumbled and rolled off his side of the bed. Still naked and half determined, if she was still on the seat, to get something for nothing. He walked in, "Forgot to wipe huh."

She wasn't smiling, "No, look." She held up another piece of toilet paper, "I don't know what this is."

Steve looked at the paper. It didn't register that there could be a problem, "Forgot to wipe didn't you."

"No Steve. Here look." She took a clean piece of paper and wiped her vagina again, "Something's wrong."

Steve got down on his knees and looked in at her vagina. He'd had three Jim Beams so he wasn't in the most analytical frame of mind. "Just looks dirty to me. Give me some paper."

Cathy tore off some more paper.

Steve took the proffered paper and dabbed at her puss. He still made her keep her vagina free of hair and it looked terrific, moist, labial lips swollen and engorged and the whole thing from her cute little clitoris all the way to her lovely little ass just as pink and pretty as ever. His hard on that had begun to fade started to perform a Lazarus. But it didn't smell right, and the toilet paper had more of that funky brownish mucus. He leaned in very close, so close his nose touched the ravine between her lips. Though something seemed wrong he kissed her there anyway. It was certainly damp, but not warm. Something wasn't right. He looked up. She was watching him, and he could tell she was nervous. Damn, nervous or not, her little nipples were sticking out like two little rosebuds against her nightie, "What do you suppose it is?"

Cathy had been reading up on pregnancies. She was sure it was probably something like ectotropia, a terrible malady where the fetus developed outside the placenta. It was always fatal, "I'm scared Steve."

Steve was concerned too, but he hadn't read any of the literature so he wasn't ready to call 911 just yet. He kissed then dabbed at her puss again; it stunk and he got more mucus, "Honey there's no blood, only this brown stuff, and it smells funny. I don't think it's too serious, but if you want we can go to the hospital."

She didn't hesitate, "Let's go to the hospital."

Steve kept looking from her pretty little breasts as they pushed against her silky nightie and her swollen vagina. He still half hoped he'd get something out of this, "You're sure."

She replied, "Yes I'm sure."

"OK, let's get dressed. I'll meet you at the car."

Cathy pulled his hair, "No don't go yet. I feel funny. I want you to help me downstairs."

All thought of any kind of sex died. She really was afraid. He stood up and took her two dainty little hands, "Come on I'll help you get ready."

They went back in the bedroom where he helped her into a light blue empire waist mini-dress that had a slightly scooped peter pan collar, puffed shoulders and short sleeves lightly trimmed with ruffles and tiny bows. She slipped on a pair of cotton panties, ankle high light blue socks, and a pair of brown penny loafers. The absence of any make up made her look plain, but the ribbons she used to tie her hair off in two pig tails plus the dress and shoes gave her an innocent concupiscence that set his heart a throb again.

He was always amazed. Cathy was always able to evince a vulnerability, an innocence, that made him want to hold and protect her. She didn't do it deliberately, it wasn't something she planned, in fact she had no conscious awareness of the affect she had on him. She thought she was ugly. Brother was she ever wrong.

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After a short drive and a three hour wait they got to see the emergency room doctor. He looked her over. He told her he didn't think it was anything serious. He thought she could go home, but to stay in bed. He recommended they get an appointment to see someone fairly soon and get some tests done.

When Cathy asked him about ectotropia he assured her that was highly unlikely, but he did warn her she might have a milder problem, maybe something like placental previa.

That scared Steve, "What's that." He asked?

The doctor explained placenta previa was a not completely uncommon occurrence. He explained it was when the placenta, the body bag that carried the baby, sometimes pressed down on the woman's uterus. The pressure could cause a slight interruption in the blood flow to the fetus, some vaginal bleeding, and could result in a mild mucus discharge. He explained the best way to prevent complications was inactivity, preferably staying in bed.

Neither Cathy nor Steve were very reassured, and asked if Cathy shouldn't stay the night and get the tests first thing in the morning. The doctor said they could, but they'd probably be better off visiting their family doctor or a specialist of their choice the next day. Both Cathy and Steve felt like they were dealing with a quack, and maybe just getting the bum's rush, but they finally agreed to go home and make their own arrangements.

They went home. He carried her from the car to their bedroom, got her undressed and back in bed. Though all thoughts of sex were forgotten, he still took a long time helping her get situated even to the point of sponging her off from head to toe.

While she tried to doze off he got out the lap top and did some research. He found out the placenta thing the doctor described could be serious; it could lead to all kinds of complications.

The next morning, while Cathy slept Steve made arrangements to see their family doctor that very day. Steve wasn't scared; he was being careful, his baby and his wife needed him. Though he certainly didn't want anything bad, the whole situation made him feel important, more useful. He reflected on the way he felt. The old Steve Murphy never thought about anyone but himself. He still thought about himself, but it was like his happiness was no longer measured by personal comfort, it was measured by the happiness and security of those around him. He liked that; he liked the kind of man he'd become.

Their family doctor was an older man of good repute. He gave Cathy a thorough examination, and set up an appointment with a specialist for some serious tests. He reassured them there was nothing to worry about. Their baby was fine, but Cathy should stay in bed or t the very least off her feet, and she should avoid any physical activity. Two days later, thanks to Steve's medical contacts through the hospice, tests were administered and results indicated placental previa was the culprit. Cathy was to be confined to a life of inactivity for the duration.

For Steve the next several weeks were his opportunity to be the doting husband and prospective dad and also to experiment with some new perverse sexual and marital pleasures he'd conjured. For Cathy Steve's new sexuality experiments became something of a pain in the ass, what she really disliked though was her inability to get out and around. She'd come to view her entertainment activities at the hospice as something akin to apostolic work; her reason for being who she was.

Steve made some slight cutbacks in his hours at the hospice. He still made his daily visits with the kids, but much of the clerical and procedural work he could do from home. Of course there were still the visits round town to meet with people and beg for money, but those aspects of his job couldn't be altered.

To help with Cathy he called another local facility and made arrangements for a live in helper. He still had his Spanish ladies, but they had their hands full with too many other duties to ask much more of them.

The new live in nurse helped he hired was an older woman who'd been a nurse. They moved her into one of the bedrooms down the hall. She was a tall somewhat overweight, perhaps a little too muscular woman who insisted on wearing her traditional white nurse's outfit. Her name was Nancy Trumbull. She was a nice person, perhaps a little brusque, but generally quite nice. Steve was convinced between the two of them they would be able to handle Cathy quite easily. Cathy took an instant dislike to Nancy.

There wasn't anything Cathy could point to about Nurse Trumbull; it just seemed like a milieu of little things that got under her skin. For one this was Cathy's first pregnancy. It was a big deal. She didn't care how many times Nurse Trumbull had seen other women with the same problem, this was her baby and her first time. Another thing was her indifferent attitude toward everything she did. She made the bed each morning with Cathy still in it. She'd make her roll to one side while she pulled the sheets and put on new. Then she made Cathy roll to the new side while she put the rest in place.

As far as Nurse Trumbull was concerned Cathy was a lump of coal or a hunk of lifeless beef. It was her matter of fact attitude about everything. She wouldn't let her out of bed for anything. She wouldn't even help her get in the big lazy boy Steve had bought and put in their bedroom. Nurse Trumbull told her the lazy boy was for her husband at night. It wasn't something for Cathy to sit in during the day. There was a television in the bedroom, but Nurse Trumbull kept the remote. Cathy was going nuts watching soap operas.

One of the worst things had to do with her personal hygiene. When she brushed her teeth the nurse brought in a pan and an already paste dabbed brush. Cathy wasn't allowed to decide how much toothpaste she got. Then Nurse Trumbull watched while she brushed. It was like Cathy was a five year old. The nurse wouldn't take the pan away till she brushed for three solid minutes, and then rinsed twice. She made her tuck a napkin under her chin when she ate. She sponged her off morning and noon. Steve did her at night. Still the worst was when she had to pee or poop. Nurse Trumbull stood at the foot of the bed and watched the whole time. Then she took thre toilet paper and wiped her ass for her. Cathy wasn't even allowed to wipe her own ass.

One good thing though was the way Nurse Trumbull gave her twice daily massages. Since Cathy was trapped in bed her muscles were getting soft, and there was always the chance of bed sores. Nurse Trumbull really knew how to massage her lifeless limbs. Thank the Lord for small blessings.

But the absolute most worst thing of all was how much Cathy missed the hospice, she missed her visits with the kids, she worried that they missed her. Cathy missed dressing up and playing make believe with the boys and girls. Nurse Trumbull acted like her dress ups and visits to the children was just her, Cathy's, way of play acting, pretending she was a child again. She couldn't get it through the woman's head that though it was play acting, and she was pretending to be a child, it was for the children that she was doing it.

Cathy really missed her kids. She called the hospice every day to check on them. One little boy was especially sick. She was afraid she'd never get to see him again. Ion the end that was what broke up Nurse Trumbull's little reign of terror.

One afternoon Theresa made one of her twice weekly visits. Up to then no one had seen Nurse Trumbull in action; what Cathy had come to call her polite condescending little cruelties. She'd complained to Steve, but he had his own agenda, and wouldn't believe her.

Theresa was in the bedroom and Nurse Trumbull didn't know she was there. Anyway nature called, and Theresa had to excuse herself to the bathroom. Just as Theresa slipped into the bathroom Nurse Trumbull walked in, "Good morning dearie. It's time to make your bed and get you ready for the day."

Cathy tried to sit up, but the nurse firmly pushed her back down on the pillow, "Now, now we mustn't try to get up."

Theresa watched quietly while she saw the nurse keep Cathy prone with one hand while she changed first one half then the other half of the bed. She watched as every time Cathy tried to move the nurse firmly pushed her down.

Theresa watched and listened while Cathy tried to tell the nurse they had an early visitor. Cathy looked up at the nurse and started to say something. As Cathy looked at Nurse Trumbull., Theresa could see trepidation, maybe even fear in her friend's face.

Cathy murmured, "Nurse Trumbull I..."

The nurse turned and in in an instant Theresa saw her take her pointer and tall man and smack Cathy on the cheek. She said, "Hush. Can't you see I'm busy? I'll bring you your bed pan when I'm finish making your bed and not before."

Cathy tried to speak again, "I..."

The nurse leaned into her ward's face, "I said hush. Now don't try to aggravate me, or I'll make you wait till this afternoon to go."

Theresa had heard and seen enough. She stepped from the bathroom, "Thank you Miss Trumbull. Mrs Murphy won't ne needing you anymore. I'll call a cab. Try be gone within the hour."

Nurse Trumbull was aghast, "I have my work..."

Theresa shook a finger at the now very conciliatory nurse, "No, I'm afraid your work here is done now. If you're not gone within the hour I'll call the police."

Nurse Trumbull tried defiance, "You wouldn't dare!"

Theresa reacted, "In fact if you aren't gone even sooner I'll call Mr. Murphy. I saw you strike a pregnant woman. Mr. Murphy takes a dim view of that kind of conduct."

Cathy watched the little drama with relish. For sure, the nurse had never touched her like that before, but it was something she thought was on the horizon. She was just glad Theresa was there to see the first time. After the nurse left Cathy sighed and thanked her friend. She had no idea the new kinds of torture that were in store for her.

Theresa called Steve and told him the nurse had been dismissed, and that from then on till Cathy delivered her their baby she, that was to say Theresa, would move in and serve as full time helpmate.

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Theresa loved Steve. She loved him like she loved her two brothers. She also had great affection for Cathy, but her feelings for Cathy went in another direction. She remembered the night after her party; the party where she'd tried to harm her new best friend. Cathy had been all warmth and love that night. Cathy knew Theresa was a lesbian, but she'd stayed overnight anyway. Nothing had happened, but ever since Cathy had special place in Theresa's heart. Now at last she had her chance to show her deeper feelings.

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The evening after Nurse Trumbull left Steve, Cathy, and Theresa held a peaceful little conference in the bedroom. It was a meeting that was to set a now gold standard for Cathy's personal care and a new high in sexual frustration.

Theresa started off, "I'll move in later tonight. Tomorrow morning I'll get up and I'll take care of Cathy."

Steve chimed in, "That's great Terry. I'll pick for you after work. Between the two of us we'll have our girl in ship shape all the time.

Cathy volunteered, "I need to get out. I need to get to the hospice. I want to go downstairs. I feel like a prisoner up here day and night."

Steve interjected, "Go out you shall. I can carry you downstairs when I get up. I'll make arrangements to rent a van so we can get you back and forth to the hospice."

Cathy started to add something but Theresa spoke first, "I know were we can find one of those oversized carriages. They're like a baby carriage, but equipped to handle an adult." Looking at Cathy, "We can get you about in that."

Cathy wanted to say something more about her activities at the hospice, but Steve must have read her mind, "There are a million ways we can dress you up so you can play act at the hospice. The kids will love it."

She wanted to assert some independence about her hygiene, but before she could get that out Theresa was there again, "I don't want to control your private activities. I'll only help with hygiene down there." She pointed to Cathy's lower body, her crotch and legs, "You mustn't try to over extend yourself down there." She smiled and held Cathy's hand, "It'll only be for a few weeks."

Cathy wanted to do her own oblations but before she could respond Steve interjected, "Theresa's right Cathy. We're worried about you, and besides it's my baby too."