Jon Cabrera's Blog - Posts Tagged "medical"
The Vessels - Chapter 1 (Preview)
This is a preview of chapter 1, book 1 "The Vessels." Just a peak. Some maybe tweaked from the original contents of the book. You have to read it to get the entire thing. ;P
Chapter 1: The Bump Reveal
Jade (The Boss Nurse)
They say nurses have a sixth sense. I’ve got a seventh. Specifically for bullshit.
It was a Tuesday, and I already hated everything. The coffee was burnt. The shift board was a disaster. A new intern kept calling me “ma’am” like I was about to retire. I was two seconds from snapping when Brielle walked into the breakroom like she was arriving at an award ceremony.
She had that look. The one people get when they’ve got news they want to turn into a spectacle. Glowing skin. Oversized hoodie. Like modesty was part of the performance. She grabbed a ginger ale, tapped her plastic cup with a spoon, and smiled like she knew something none of us did.
“I have something to share,” she said. Her voice was light but rehearsed. Her eyes scanned the room and stopped on me. Always me. Like I was the one she needed to impress or confess to.
“I’m pregnant.”
The room went still.
Someone dropped a spoon. Angie gasped. Val blinked as if she hadn’t heard her correctly. I kept chewing my protein bar.
Then the others started.
“Oh my god. Me too.”
“No way. I’m pregnant.”
“You’re kidding. Same here.”
It was like dominoes. One after the other, until the entire breakroom was echoing with shock, awkward laughter, and the sound of people pretending this was normal.
Lina squeezed Tasha’s hand. Sarah placed both palms on her stomach like it had just occurred to her that something might be growing there. Even Val — judgmental, tight-lipped Val — looked thoughtful, like she was replaying her calendar in her head.
I stayed seated.
Twelve of us in the room. Eleven had just claimed pregnancy.
They turned to me.
I was the oldest. The one no one questioned. I didn’t have a title that made me anyone’s boss, but it was understood. I ran the floor. I enforced the unspoken rules.
I stood slowly, wiped my hands on a paper towel, and met their eyes.
“I’m not confirming anything until there’s a heartbeat and a social security number.”
They laughed. High-pitched. Nervous.
I didn’t.
Because the truth was, I was pregnant too.
Six weeks, maybe a little more.
But unlike the rest of them, I wasn’t smiling about it. I wasn’t telling cute stories about cravings or naming apps. I was making lists in my head. Checking schedules. Counting back.
Because this wasn’t an accident.
It wasn’t a moment I could trace to one person. Or one night.
It was a complication. The kind that comes with silence, missing memories, and power you can’t explain.
I wasn’t sure who the father was.
There were… possibilities. Two men I never should have touched. One married. One with a hospital badge that outranked mine. Both with reasons to keep things quiet.
The breakroom felt smaller than it had moments ago. The lights too bright. The air too still.
Twelve pregnancies. One hospital already short-staffed. And if HR found out, it wouldn’t be a wellness concern — it would be a PR emergency.
If the board caught wind, heads would roll. And if it reached the public?
We’d be the headline.
I walked out, brushing past Sarah on the way. She looked pale, like she might pass out. I didn’t stop.
The supply closet was empty. I leaned against a metal shelf and stared at the mop bucket. The smell of antiseptic didn’t clear my head, but it gave me something solid to focus on.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Twelve pregnancies in one unit?
Not likely. Not here.
Something happened. Something none of us fully remembered. And I had a feeling it started with that staff retreat.
There was a firepit. Music. Tequila. A night meant for bonding and celebration. I remembered the beginning. But the rest blurred. I remembered a voice close to mine. Heat. Laughter. Someone handing me a drink.
And then nothing.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to remember the parts that mattered.
My phone buzzed. A number I hadn’t saved, but I knew it anyway.
We need to talk. Now. –J
I stared at it.
One of them. The one with the expensive watch and the look in his eyes every time we passed in the hallway.
I silenced the notification and put the phone back in my pocket.
Not yet.
Chapter 1: The Bump Reveal
Jade (The Boss Nurse)
They say nurses have a sixth sense. I’ve got a seventh. Specifically for bullshit.
It was a Tuesday, and I already hated everything. The coffee was burnt. The shift board was a disaster. A new intern kept calling me “ma’am” like I was about to retire. I was two seconds from snapping when Brielle walked into the breakroom like she was arriving at an award ceremony.
She had that look. The one people get when they’ve got news they want to turn into a spectacle. Glowing skin. Oversized hoodie. Like modesty was part of the performance. She grabbed a ginger ale, tapped her plastic cup with a spoon, and smiled like she knew something none of us did.
“I have something to share,” she said. Her voice was light but rehearsed. Her eyes scanned the room and stopped on me. Always me. Like I was the one she needed to impress or confess to.
“I’m pregnant.”
The room went still.
Someone dropped a spoon. Angie gasped. Val blinked as if she hadn’t heard her correctly. I kept chewing my protein bar.
Then the others started.
“Oh my god. Me too.”
“No way. I’m pregnant.”
“You’re kidding. Same here.”
It was like dominoes. One after the other, until the entire breakroom was echoing with shock, awkward laughter, and the sound of people pretending this was normal.
Lina squeezed Tasha’s hand. Sarah placed both palms on her stomach like it had just occurred to her that something might be growing there. Even Val — judgmental, tight-lipped Val — looked thoughtful, like she was replaying her calendar in her head.
I stayed seated.
Twelve of us in the room. Eleven had just claimed pregnancy.
They turned to me.
I was the oldest. The one no one questioned. I didn’t have a title that made me anyone’s boss, but it was understood. I ran the floor. I enforced the unspoken rules.
I stood slowly, wiped my hands on a paper towel, and met their eyes.
“I’m not confirming anything until there’s a heartbeat and a social security number.”
They laughed. High-pitched. Nervous.
I didn’t.
Because the truth was, I was pregnant too.
Six weeks, maybe a little more.
But unlike the rest of them, I wasn’t smiling about it. I wasn’t telling cute stories about cravings or naming apps. I was making lists in my head. Checking schedules. Counting back.
Because this wasn’t an accident.
It wasn’t a moment I could trace to one person. Or one night.
It was a complication. The kind that comes with silence, missing memories, and power you can’t explain.
I wasn’t sure who the father was.
There were… possibilities. Two men I never should have touched. One married. One with a hospital badge that outranked mine. Both with reasons to keep things quiet.
The breakroom felt smaller than it had moments ago. The lights too bright. The air too still.
Twelve pregnancies. One hospital already short-staffed. And if HR found out, it wouldn’t be a wellness concern — it would be a PR emergency.
If the board caught wind, heads would roll. And if it reached the public?
We’d be the headline.
I walked out, brushing past Sarah on the way. She looked pale, like she might pass out. I didn’t stop.
The supply closet was empty. I leaned against a metal shelf and stared at the mop bucket. The smell of antiseptic didn’t clear my head, but it gave me something solid to focus on.
This wasn’t coincidence.
Twelve pregnancies in one unit?
Not likely. Not here.
Something happened. Something none of us fully remembered. And I had a feeling it started with that staff retreat.
There was a firepit. Music. Tequila. A night meant for bonding and celebration. I remembered the beginning. But the rest blurred. I remembered a voice close to mine. Heat. Laughter. Someone handing me a drink.
And then nothing.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to remember the parts that mattered.
My phone buzzed. A number I hadn’t saved, but I knew it anyway.
We need to talk. Now. –J
I stared at it.
One of them. The one with the expensive watch and the look in his eyes every time we passed in the hallway.
I silenced the notification and put the phone back in my pocket.
Not yet.
