Inquisitive ✓

6.4 It's okay, Seth

~ Seth ~

Gray's right. There's something wrong. I'm rarely sick and, when I am, it's usually only for a day or two—not every single fucking night. I feel really terrible. I'm drowning in my bed every morning. I'm not always hungry like I used to be—no, I never feel like eating at all. I'm tired all the time, which is annoying in itself, because I feel like I could fall asleep every single second. I don't mind seeing a doctor for it at all. I hate being sick. I can't do anything and it makes for unbelievably boring days.

I'm just going to have to get over my fear of hospitals then... Crazy, crowded, white, sterile hells. I don't feel at ease in them whatsoever, but I'll have to go. I don't want to keep being sick.

I slowly make myself ready for my appointment, while also making sure I have eaten something—even though I almost feel like puking when I force the cereal through my throat—and send a text to the others to tell them I'm on my way to my doctor right now.

I have to wait in the waiting room for what feels like days, sitting next to an old man telling me stories about god-knows-what. I'm not listening. I'm not focused on anything going on around me. I'm almost even nodding off to sleep, when the doctor finally calls me to her room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Langley. Please sit down." She gestures to the chair on my side of the desk. "What did you want to talk about today?"

"I haven't been very well lately," I reply softly, not exactly knowing what she wants me to say.

"Please tell me what you've been experiencing then."

I tell her about me being tired all the time, having random fevers and sweating periods, and often not feeling like eating. I make sure to tell her I'm a very active person who normally eats till his stomach bursts. She's writing everything down and when I'm done talking, she stares at her notes for a while, before asking, "Will you please move over to the table and take off your shirt so I can examine you?"

I follow her instructions and sit on the table, kind of nervous of what she's going to be doing to me. She starts touching certain spots on my body—the back of my head, under my jaw, my armpits. Then she moves from my upper abdomen to the sides of my lower belly. She sighs softly and then asks me to remove my pants too.

Reluctantly, I slowly take them off. She instructs me to lie down on the examination table, before softly pressing down on my groin—the crease in between my leg and my lower body. I know this is just my doctor examining me, but I can't help feeling uncomfortable. To distract myself, I ask, "What are you searching for?"

"I'm feeling for anything unusual in your lymph nodes."

I nod. That makes sense. "Did you find anything?"