Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson Page B

do sometimes. So we gave him medicine and a big bandage. He's going to be fine now. I'm his doctor, and I promise.”
The little girl--all of the Macdowell kids--fastened on to every word I had to say. So did their mother.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she finally whispered. “We love John so much. He's one of the good guys.”
“I know he is. I could tell by the concern everybody showed. His entire crew came to the ER. We're going to keep John here for a few days. When it's time for him to leave, I'll tell you exactly what you'll need to do at home. He's stable now. Why don't I watch the kids. You can go in and see him.”
The little girl climbed down from my lap. Mrs. Macdowell unraveled the baby from her arms and lowered him into mine. He was so tiny, probably only two or three months old. I doubted that his mother was more than twenty-five.
“Are you sure, Dr. Bedford? You can spare the time?” she asked me.
“I have all the time in the world for you, John, and the kids.”
I sat there, holding the baby boy, and I couldn't help thinking about the little boy growing inside me. And also about mortality, and how we face it every day of our lives.
I already knew I was a pretty good doctor. But it was only at that moment, when I held the little Macdowell baby, that I knew I was going to be a good mother.
No, Nick, I knew I was going to be a great mom.
“What was that?” I said. “Matt? Honey?”
I spoke with difficulty. "Matt . . . something's going on. I'm in . . . some pain. Whew. There's more than a little pain, actually.
I dropped my fork on the floor of the Black Dog Tavern, where we were having dinner. This couldn't be happening. Not yet. I was still weeks away from my delivery date. There was no way I could be having a contraction.
Matt jumped into action. He was more prepared for the moment than I was. He tossed cash onto the table and escorted me out of the Black Dog.
Part of me knew what was happening. Or so I believed. Braxton Hicks. Contractions that don't represent true labor. Women sometimes have these pains, occasionally even in their first trimester, but when they come in the third, they can be mistaken for actual labor.
However, my pain seemed to be above my uterus, spreading up and under my left lung. It came like a sharp knife. Literally took my breath away.
We got into the Jeep and headed directly to the hospital.
“I'm sure it's nothing,” I said. “Nicky's just giving a heads-up, letting us know he's physically fit.”
“Good,” Matt said, but he kept driving.
I had been getting weekly monitoring because this was considered a high-risk pregnancy. But everything had been fine, even a joy, up until now. If I were in trouble, I would have known it. Wouldn't I? I was always on the lookout for the least little problem. The fact that I'm a doctor made me even more prepared.
I was wrong. I was in trouble. The kind of trouble you're not quite sure you want to know about before it happens.
This is the story of how we both almost died.
Nicholas,

We had the best doctor on Martha's Vineyard, and one of the best in all of New England. Dr. Constance Cotter arrived at the hospital about ten minutes after I got there with Matt.
I felt fine by then, but Connie monitored me herself for the next two hours. I could see her urgency; I could read it in the tightness of her jaw. She was worrying about my heart. Was it strong enough? She was worrying about you, Nicky.
“This is potentially dangerous,” Connie said, sparing me no illusions. “Suzanne, your pressure is so high that part of me wants to start labor right now. I know it's not time, but you've got me worried. What I am going to do is keep you here tonight. And as many nights as I feel are warranted. No, you have no say in this.”
I looked at Connie like, You must be kidding. I was a doctor. I lived right down the road from the hospital. I would come in immediately if necessary.
“Don't even think about it. You're staying. Check in, and I'll be up to