Concord Memorial Hospital's sterile exam room with its white hygienic walls wasn't anyone's ideal place to spend Friday morning; unfortunately, that was where Safiya Mendoza was. The Belizean-Dominican beauty sat on top of the examination bed reading a poster on the symptoms of Diabetes dangling her legs over the edge. Unlike her three girlfriends, she was the only one not from Texas. The mass communication major hailed from sunny, beach-encrusted California. Why did she come to Texas? Like any other eighteen-year-old; to get as far from her parents as she could and Texas University was the only school that gave her a partial scholarship, which helped her convince her penny-counting father.

Safiya's stomach surged tottering like a boat floating in the Pacific. She was nauseated. She's been nauseated. It was her stomach, her biggest villain, always setting traps to keep her down. Okay, maybe it was her fault, eating that pepperoni, four-cheese pizza that she washed down with a root beer float. But her stomach should be able to hold the fat-saturated, greasy deliciousness, breaking it down like a work crew in a coal mine. Her stomach swayed harder every minute longer the doctor didn't appear. All she needed was a refill.

"How long does it take someone to write a prescription?" She thought, holding the nape of her neck, swallowing the acid that rose up to her throat.

After five minutes a petite doctor waltzed into the room holding a vanilla folder with her lab coat flying behind her. "Hello, Ms. Mendoza! Sorry for the wait."

Safiya hopped off the bed clicking her green jelly sandals on the tile floor, "Did you write the prescription or did you just forward it to my pharmacy? It's the one on Yellow Nest Road remember." She held her hand out.

"Prescription?" Dr. James sat on the black-wheeled stool. "Prescription for what? Safiya, I thought we agreed you'd stay off WebMD." She crossed her legs and set the folder on top of them.

"I don't need WebMD. I know my acid reflux flared up again. All I need are my pills. I need my pills so I can have my pizza and my ice cream, that's all I want, that's all." Safiya grabbed her purse off the beige countertop.

"The pills aren't a cure for your reflux, it's an aid. You can't go out and eat whatever your mouth waters for. Stick to the diet we made"

"That diet is boring and tasteless. I am not a rabbit. I am a human. I want fat and carbohydrates. And don't forget gluten and dairy; dairy tastes so good."

"Safiya, do you want to be in the hospital again?"

Safiya's mind stroll through all the sizzling, creamy images her eyes absorbed on the Food Network, then an image of her in that awful one size fits all hospital gown popped up, "No."

"Then stick to the diet." Dr. James flipped open the folder. "But reflux didn't bring you here." Dr. James clenched her hands looking at Safiya with a tight mouth.

"Oh, my God. Oh my God! I'm dying, aren't I? The gastric acid is eating away at my esophagus. I have cancer! Oh my God, that fried chicken that I ate" She held her heart "I told Lela doesn't have tacos but she ordered them; she ordered guac, and tamales, and set them up in the living room like a Mexican feast on Cinco de Mayo and I feasted like the Greeks. Oh God, I'm gonna die. I have to call my mom" Safiya fished in her purse.

"When you call her instead of telling her that you're dying but she's going to be a grandmother in six months."

Safiya kept digging, "To what?"

"A baby."

Safiya looked at Dr. James, "From where?"

"Your womb."

Like a sack of rocks, Safiya hit the floor.

How would you react if you found out you were pregnant?