Fighting For Normal

Urgent Care

Everything around me felt like it was fading in and out, with each wave of my fever making reality seem hazy. My skin felt like it was on fire, and every muscle ached as if I had just finished a long race. The relentless pain in my left thigh served as a constant reminder of the strange sickness that had gripped me. Even sleep, which is usually a break from everything, couldn't free me from the tiredness that felt like it was wrapped around me tightly.

I shifted awkwardly on the plastic chair, the strong smell of disinfectant cutting through the haze of my fever. The bright, sterile waiting room of Urgent Care only made my anxiety worse. A cheesy daytime talk show blared from a TV mounted high in the corner, the pointless chatter getting on my nerves. In the corner, a child with a bandaged arm whimpered softly while his mother whispered comforting words.

Dad was sitting next to me, giving off an air of tense control. His square face, with sharp cheekbones and intense blue eyes, showed signs of worry. His dirty-blonde hair was neatly styled, but it seemed to bristle with every anxious breath he took. He reached over and squeezed my shoulder, the warmth of his hand providing a little comfort in the chilly room. "Just hang in there, Sloane," he said softly, his voice rough with concern.

Pops was on my other side, his hand resting gently on my knee. His oval face, framed by a crew cut of ash-blonde hair, wore a kind expression, and his bright green eyes were filled with worry. He caught my gaze and gave me a reassuring smile, silently promising that everything would be okay.

I've seen pictures of Dad and Pops from high school - they haven't changed a bit. Same hairstyles, same loving looks. It's amazing they've been together since then.

Stetson, unable to sit still, paced back and forth in front of us. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checked it quickly, then shoved it back in, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His square face, similar to Dad's, was lined with concern, and his bright blue eyes were constantly scanning the room. His dirty-blonde hair, styled in a trendy fade with a mop of curls on top, seemed to reflect his restless energy.

"Hey, relax," I whispered, my voice sounding rough. "You're making my head spin."

He paused his pacing and gave me a concerned smile. "Sorry, I can't help it. This place is really freaking me out. All these sick people... what if I catch something?" He shivered for effect.

I attempted to smile back, but it hurt too much and sent a sharp pain through my head. "That's silly," I managed to say. "It's probably just a flu or something." Yet, even as I spoke, a wave of anxiety gripped my stomach. This felt way worse than any flu I had experienced.

"Sloane?" a voice broke the heavy silence.

We all turned to see a young woman with warm brown eyes and a kind smile. Her dark hair was neatly tied up, showcasing her defined cheekbones and full lips. A tiny silver stud sparkled in her nose.

"I'm Sera," she introduced herself, her tone calming. "I'll be your nurse today. Unfortunately, only two people can come with Sloane."

Without a second thought, Stetson said, "I'll stay here," giving me a comforting smile. But I could see the concern in his eyes, reflecting the fear that was starting to take hold of me.

Sera guided us through a brightly lit corridor, where the walls were decorated with anatomical charts and health tips. The strong smell of antiseptic filled the air, making my stomach feel uneasy. She brought us into a small examination room, closing the door with a soft click. The room was bare, containing only a padded exam table wrapped in crinkly paper, a rolling stool, and a metal counter filled with various medical tools. In the corner, a plastic bin overflowing with colorful toys stood out, a strange reminder of the healthier kids who had been here before me.