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"Calling Number 759! Will Janice and Mark Fleming report to Examination Room 109! Calling Number 759! Will Janice and Mark Fleming report to Examination Room 109! Thank you."
Janice rose hesitantly, though Mark practically jumped from his chair when they were called. Taking his hand, she squeezed it gently to reassure him but he didn't respond, pulling free of her instead.
"Come on then" she said quietly, nudging her son to follow the nurse who had called their name. It hadn't even begun and her family was falling apart. There was always that chance...
"This way, Mrs. Fleming. You must be Mark?" The nurse tried to sound cheery, but it had been a long few days dealing with more than reluctant patients sent to be examined for compatibility. Sometimes it was the older of the two, sometimes the younger. Sometimes... well there had been that Indian couple who had seemed more than eager. It took all kinds.
As they entered the examination room, she directed them to get undressed. Both the boy and his mother looked at her in alarm. "No, no. There is a curtain to separate you. See?" As if to prove the fact, she pulled a divider between the two examination tables. "There. Now you'll find gowns to put on. The doctor will be in as soon as he looks over the forms you filled out when you arrived this morning. In the meantime, I will take your vital signs. Just give me a holler when you're ready."
Janice undressed slowly, stopping to fold each item of clothing neatly as she removed it. She knew she didn't have a choice in this -- then again, neither did Mark. Putting on the gown they had provided, she sat up on the edge of the table and called out to the nurse.
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Three hours later, mother and son began to feel as though they were human pincushions. They'd been stuck, poked, prodded, scanned and submitted to a variety of tests including a DNA sample. Just to be sure you are who you say you are, you understand is what they were told when she asked. Evidently some people had already tried to substitute a non-relative for the connately related partner.
After being told to dress and return to the waiting room until their results were finalized, Mark appeared even more jittery than he had earlier. Janice tried to make small talk but found it difficult enough to staunch her growing nausea, so she sat silently. Waiting. And waiting some more.
Mark fidgeted and paced for a while before returning to his seat where he eventually dozed off. When they were recalled, she touched her son's arm gently to wake him, nearly startling him out of his skin. "It's our turn again, love" Janice said quietly as she stood.
"Doctor Sanchez will see you in here. Your results are all in." The forced smile on the nurse's face indicated what she already knew.
"Hello again, Mrs. Fleming. Mark. Have a seat will you?" The doctor's face was completely devoid of expression.
Maybe? Maybe we aren't compatible after all? Her hopes were short-lived however as the doctor began to speak. She only half-listened, catching one or two words, but their meaning was clear.
"99.97% compatible... one of our highest results... definitely fertile... next five days... as much as possible... " He went on and on. Would the man never shut up? She wanted to get out of there. Go for a drive. She had to think. About anything. Anything but this
"Do you have any questions, Mrs. Fleming? Mark?" Janice looked up at Dr. Sanchez and shook her head -- almost afraid to speak. "Here is a folder with further instructions and a FAQ that should answer any further questions you may have. Now go home and procreate!"
Janice knew that it was a feeble attempt at humor to relieve the tension, but it was the final straw in a losing battle against the bile that had hovered dangerously in her throat. Looking around desperately for somewhere to vomit, she seized the wastepaper basket and was violently sick.
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