5sos Imagines/doctor imagines \discontinued/

Requested by @Barbrasiegar - ( doctor!5sos

"Dad I'm telling you I'm fine," grumbled. Making me Drag my feet across the room to where the kitchen table was. My dad already waiting there. He just sighed.

I'd rather be in bed sleeping and avoiding the pain my body was in but I threw up earlier and my dad being the overprotective man he is, is insisting I go to the doctors. Or rather making me go to the hospital so Ashton who is an ent (Ear, Nose, and throat doctor.) can diagnose me with whatever it is I have.

"Since when is having a stomach bug a reason to go to the doctors," I grumbled. My face was laying down on the table. The cold surface felt wonderful against my boiling skin. Also making the headache I had feel slightly better.

"Your sick baby, and it's more than just a stomach bug," he got up from his seat and rubbed my shoulder. He always knew.

"Last time I checked it wasn't that bad," I rolled my eyes. In truth I knew it was bad and I knew that he was right I just didn't want to have surgery. I'd looked it up and all my symptoms were signs of tonsillitis and I've had so many times ash is probably going to want them removed. So playing it off like nothing was wrong was a good idea at the time.

He shook his head. "Your tonsils were bleeding that's not good. plus you've had tonsillitis four times already. you and i both know what that points to. now without arguing, we're going to visit Ashton and he's going to see if he needs to remove them." his tone was soft and caring but he was actually being stern with me I hated it. Normally he would be all soft and nice. Well more soft and nice, he'd make me soup and make sure I rest.

"I'm going to get ready you can get changed if you want, but your fine in that," he patted my shoulder once more and left to get ready. I hummed in response not really having a voice to say anything back.

I just sat at the table. They were going to make me change into a hospital gown anyway, so why change out of my pj's. Which were one of uncle Cals old T-shirts and a pair of Nike shorts.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. A great thing that comes along with my anxiety. I shook my head, maybe if I shook it hard enough some of my scared thoughts would leave.

I was scared. Like really, really scared. I knew that my uncles and dad would take care of me, but my brain wouldn't stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Sure 95% of the time everything goes to plan and their patients are fine. The other five percent either get hurt or die. What if I was in that five percent. What if I just don't wake up. I can't be one of the people that don't wake up. I have so much in my life that I'll miss.

They don't need to take out my tonsils. They can just leave them there. All it is, is a really bad cold or flu. No need for surgery. No need to put me under and possibly kill me. No need. No need.

"Sweetheart I need you to sit on the floor with your head on your knees. You've put yourself into a panic attack," my dad's voice broke through my head voice.  I hadn't even noticed I was hyperventilating and crying.

My body basically fell into floor. I put my head to my knees. My breathing become a little easier but my brain just wouldn't stop. What if I do die. Will they miss me.

Strong arms wrapped around my hunched state. Muffling my cries and ragged breathing. "Focus on me Becca. Listen to my breathing," dads voice almost whispered. It was only meant for me. His words broke through something and I was back with him and he was hugging me tightly. My breathing began to match his. I heard a sigh of relief. "Thank you sweetheart, your so brave," his arms never leaving me as we stood up. I pushed myself further into him, as if he might disappear.

A fresh set of tears left my eyes. I wasn't as scared and I felt safe.

now I'm currently waiting in an exam room for my dad and uncles to tell me the bad news. If it wasn't bad news I'd be surprised.