Masacrik was such a weird doctor. By strange chance, you met with such a strange man. It wasn't hard to be infatuated with you, in fact it was all too easy with how painfully lonely you were. At least, that's what he thought, until he noticed you ha...
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"The doctor will see you now" a shrill voice announced. I breathed in deeply, the anxiety wetting my hands and making me shiver under the cool of the fluorescent lit waiting room. The chairs were fine enough with the comfortable fabric for the seat, but the cool metal texture for its arm rests seemed to cause goosebumps to run wildly up my arms. I stood up from the chair and wiped the ever growing puddles of my palms onto my skirt. I coughed away that little bit of anxiety growing as I turned to the blonde nurse.
She seemed tired, as if this truly was just a day job she didn't enjoy. Her whole persona seemed like a mimic of those classic waitresses in media with one cigarette in her hand, she had the high messy ponytail and a motherly figure, too. It only made my overwhelming anxiety heighten. Should I be nervous? Her attitude made me feel as though I was overreacting. Yet, I couldn't help but notice how tense the atmosphere felt.
"Yes, thank you." I coughed with a forced smile, trying desperately to seem as perfect as possible. She didn't seem to give two shits as I grabbed my bag and stepped towards the doorway she stood at. She sneered as she looked towards me, an unreadable expression filling her pale face.
As we stepped into the hallway I could hear my breath in my throat, the shivering of my hands surely evident if it wasn't for them being placed firmly into my pockets. I steadied my breath as all I could hear was the slight hum from the generic hospital lights above me raving with electricity.
I tried to focus on that sound rather than the knowledge this was already my fourth time trying to diagnose my illness.
When I was younger, it was easier to manage. I was able to hide symptoms and doctors assumed it was a kid thing. However, as an adult, these little symptoms caused me mass anxiety with the fact not a single doctor would listen to me.
I held my bag more firmly to my side, my medical information filed neatly inside. This time. Hopefully this time someone will listen.
We finally stopped in front of a room, the nurse knocking for a moment on the door. With no answer, she opened it and lead me inside.
"Take a seat, hun." She yawned. She didn't seem to admire my stressed nature, and instead seemed annoyed by my glaringly obviously forced smile. I sat on the examination bed which was folded to be in a more seated position than anything.
"Name?" She yelled out. I responded with my name. She then proceeded to ask for my birthday, my medical ID, and Insurance. She nodded with a hum. The clicks and clacks of the computer made me weirdly unnerving. The feeling of it loud enough to hide my breath, which made me less anxious. Yet, the fact she was typing so much... just why did she have so much to say??
