About this time, Celia started to take vitamins and to descend further and further into depression. The tablets were dense and smelled of yeast; Ben liked to depict Celia as a vitamin addict and would jokingly come to their bedside in the morning to deliver a single tablet on a large tray. As far as Celia was concerned, these attempts at humor only served to demonstrate Ben’s complete lack of concern for her ailing health. She would tearfully denounce his deliberate and thoughtless cruelty.
About this time, Ben had to go to Amsterdam for a week, as a delegate to a conference. Celia realized that if she could manage to see a doctor during this time, and get him to define her condition she could possibly use the diagnosis to deprive Ben of the opportunity to tease her when he came home. As soon as he left for the airport, she acted without delay. She called the doctor’s surgery and made an appointment for the same day.
Celia had not visited this doctor before, and the receptionist politely asked her to leave a deposit. Celia had to use a credit card, but the receptionist assured her that after she had settled her bill the surgery would delete the transaction and the money would be returned to her account. Then the doctor listened to her symptoms and gave her a short examination with a device made from two rubber tubes that seemed to have an infinite capacity to deform itself t suit any situation.
“Well, my dear,” he said, reassuringly, as he folded his stethoscope and put in his bag. “If your husband gives him any more trouble, just tell him to do itself.”
“Do what?” asked Celia, somewhat mystified.
“Have the baby,” said the doctor. “Come back and see me in three weeks.”