"You seem to have severely broken your scaphoid Dani."
"Scaphoid?" Sitting in Doctor Peterson's office never got easier. Doctors were not my favourite place to come, not because of the actual test parts, but the seriousness. Everything was so serious and lifeless.
"It's a small bone just below your thumb..." he points to the small chunks on the screen. "these are supposed to all be connected."
"So what do we do to fix it? Cast for 6 weeks?" Doctor Peterson laughed.
"No Dani. More like surgery and cast for 8-10 weeks. But it could be more. The scaphoid is a slow home to heal, even when we screw it all back into place. You really stuffed this one up."
"But school. Dance. Piano. Everything." Doctor Peterson solemnly nodded his head.
"There are ways around all of these things. You also chipped some bone fragments off in your wrist, so we can clean them out during the surgery."
Information was flying at me. The beige walls of the doctor's office felt like they were taunting me.
"I will get Grace to send through all the paperwork to Joel. He said your parents were away again. I would say we want to be having this done early next week, so that the bones don't start to heal before that."
Ms Blakesons showcase.
How will I dance in that, or play piano?
"I will bandage it up for the moment, give you a script for some anti-inflammatories and painkillers. It's too swollen to put a cast on." Doctor Peterson swings his chair, pulling out the bandages from the cupboard behind him.
"Is everything else okay Dani?" He starts to gently move my injured hand, maneuvering it to be bandaged.
"Yeah. Fine." I wince as he starts to compress. Lucky it wasn't my right hand.
Doctor Peterson has been my doctor for years. As long as I can remember I have come to him for everything from the general check up to getting a script to start the pill to help with cramps.
"Joel said this was all because of a panic attack. And you look like you haven't been sleeping."
I nod. Because of my anxiety, I often find it hard to sleep, especially in a quite, dark room. During my early teen years, I developed a lovely case of insomnia, which progressively has gotten worse. I now, have to have my bedroom light on all night, and normally have music playing, or the radio on.
Do I have pills to help deal with all of this? Yes. Do I take them? No.
The bandage is pulled tighter, encasing my thumb in a stiff position.
"Dani, you have to take the pills. You will burn out again."
"I know. It's just..." my mind wanders back to last year. It was the middle of exam time at school, and I was beyond stressed. Everyone at school was, so I didn't worry about it. I didn't sleep, I worked 24/7, and throughout all of this, I also was working at Ms Blakesons, and consistently working out, running or going to the gym. I stopped eating, not necessarily because I was unhappy with my body, but because I felt I just didn't have the time.
Of course, that all came crashing down on me when I collapsed on the bus on the way homefro my final exam. I was in hospital for over a week, before they deemed me not 'a threat to myself'.
Pinning the bandage in place, Doctor Peterson looks back at me.
"I will give you a new script for a different anxiety med, and a refill for the melatonin. I feel you may need a bigger dose." Nodding my head, I grab the bundle of papers from him, tucking then into my blazer.
I go to stand and leave the room, but Doctor Peterson quickly grand something else from behind him.
"You'll need a sling Dani. And try and keep off the hand please." He passes me the square of fabric, which I reluctantly pull over my head, and slip my bandages arm into.
"Thankyou." I yank my bag off the floor, throwing it over my shoulder.
After paying the receptionist, I walk outside, checking the time.
4:37.
I missed the bus.
Walking to the chemist across the street I fill up the thousands of scripts I just received.
"Are these all for you ma'am?" The young lady asks from behind the desk. I nod.
"These all need to be taken with food, the anxiety ones 2 times a day, the melatonin once before bed, and the others every 6-8 hours." Passing me the bag, she smiles, which I return somewhat half-heartedly.
"Thankyou." Walking out of the chemist, I see a familiar red Mazda in the parking lot.
"Dani! I thought I missed you!" Joel yells, from across the lot.
"You came to pick me up?"
"Well yeah, I didn't know what the results would be, so I thought maybe you would want a ride home."
"I have to go to Blakesons. Got classes on that the girls are trying to cover for." Joel just raised an eyebrow.
"Are you kidding?"
"Nope. Life goes on, doesn't it?" realising this is a lost battle, he grabs the bag off my back, placing it in the back seat. I hop in the passenger's seat, buckling in, waiting for Joel to join me in the car.
The aching begins as we drive towards Ms Blakeson's Academy for performing arts, and I slightly second-guess my choice.
YOU ARE READING
In Your Company
Teen Fiction--Re-written-- When I was 8 we were playing hide and seek in the little park surrounded by bush down the street from my house. It was a large group of us. It was always fun down at the park, since our parents never really came and checked on us. Bei...
