(2 of 2)
In the eighth-floor clinic's waiting room, Stacy can feel the tension. "Most of the women are just like me, scared," she says. There is a quiet murmur as the women—of all outlooks and incomes —huddle with their friends. A young man in blue jeans nervously opens a bag of coffee grounds and, thinking it is instant coffee, tries to brew a cup. His long-haired girlfriend sits motionless near by, her face blank. ABORTION CAN BE LONELY, reads a wall poster. From a loudspeaker comes the Beatles' Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. At intervals a small child cries out for his mother.
Each day more than 60 women pass through the clinic. Almost half are under 22, all but a third are single, more than a third are Catholics who come despite their church's adamant opposition to abortion. They wait, go for blood and urine tests, and wait some more. For most, the visit takes four to five hours, the abortion itself only two to three minutes. It costs about $150.
The staff of 41 is friendly, cheery, almost ebullient. Their mood helps to assuage the fears. So does the counseling service, which many clinics do not provide.
On her first trip to the clinic a nurse "started lecturing me on how much it costs to raise a baby," Stacy recalls. "She sounded just like a mother." This time there are no long discussions. Stacy is called in for "the procedure," during which "the tissue" will be removed. Most women choose to be put to sleep with an intravenous injection of Brevital. "They have your legs just like you're going to have a baby," says Stacy.
The abortion completed, Stacy is wheeled into the recovery room. After 15 minutes, she awakes feeling cramps. One woman in the recovery room is vomiting into a paper bag, while others are crying or moaning. Stacy wants to get out quickly: "I can't listen to that." To bring up her blood-sugar level, a staffer gives her a cup of ginger ale, some Lorna Boone cookies and a Tylenol painkiller. They make her feel nauseated again. But soon Stacy and her mother are back on the street. The fresh air revives her. "I feel light," she says, "so good."
Stacy does not want to marry and leave home, "not till I'm older like my mother." And she does not want to repeat this day's sad experience. "I won't get any more abortions," she says. But now that it is over, she and her mother are off to Alexander's department store for a shopping spree. They try to forget the day by buying new shoes and a raincoat.