Keeping It Under Wraps
A Fictional Story about Factitious
By Elly Jarvis
By Elly Jarvis
5/9/17
11:02 AM
I open my eyes to what feels like a flashlight being shined in my face. Go away world. There is a sharp pain in my hip which I try to ignore. My eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and I immediately want to fall back into the deep depths of sleep. What happened?
The room I’m in feels small and the color of the walls are a neutral mix of brown and white. I forget what the color is called, but those community college art classes I took back in high school should really have prepared me more for situations like this.
I take a deep breath and lean back against my pillow. I close my eyes for a second and reopen them, just to see if the setting I’m in changes. It doesn’t. All I’m left with now are my thoughts.
At least I’m alone. My parents would be on me if they knew what happened. Oh Lord, they probably know. This situation will just lead to more questions and then they’ll really know what’s going on with me. I never thought it would go as far as this, but really I probably knew it all long. Wow, I’m pathetic. Friendless. Hopeless. The only comfort I have is this very institution I’m sitting in.
Of course this would happen. Stuff like this only happens to me. Of course, I’m lying here in a hospital bed. Of course, the car crashed. Of course, my parents are going to have to pay for all of it. And of COURSE it’s nobody’s fault, but mine.
I sit for awhile, I wish a nurse would come in soon. I’m tired of being alone in this puddle of dissatisfaction with myself for letting it go too far. Wow, I’m dramatic. As if on cue, the nurse walks in. She has a sweet smile plastered on her face, a clipboard in her hand, and a name tag with the name Nelly. “Oh, good,” she exclaims, “You’re awake!”
I smile back at her. “I’m all right, but who brought me here?” I manage to say. “We found you in your car crashed up against a tree, someone driving by saw you, called an ambulance, and here you are. But that’s not important right now. All you should do right now is rest.” “All right,” I reply, “What happened to my hip though?” “You somehow managed to unbuckle yourself while driving, and when you hit the tree your hip collided with the gearstick and unfortunately it dislocated your hip. Luckily, the doctors were able to stabilize your pelvis using the non-operative procedure.” Oh wow, I wonder what everyone at my university is going to think of this. “Wow,” I exclaim. “Do you remember at all unbuckling your seatbelt?” Nelly asks. “Honestly, no.” I answer despite the creeping voice in the back of my head saying that I did it for a particular reason.
Ever since I got into college, it’s like I don’t have time for spending time with friends or family. At the beginning of the school year, it felt great. I made friends fast and we all had a lot to talk about, but since then it’s has been difficult spending time with everyone with the work load. Not only that but when I was around everyone I didn’t feel very interesting, mostly because almost everyone was from somewhere else while I am fairly local to the college. It was almost like I always had to come up with something interesting to draw people’s attention, like a crazy story or an exaggeration of a life experience.
Before college, it felt easier to talk to people. I had good friends that I had known for almost forever, and it felt like I could be more open and more myself. Where I am now with friends, it almost feels like I have to work at it, like who I am isn’t exciting enough. It’s now nearing the end of my freshman year of college and this is either the seventh or eighth time I’ve been in a medical facility. None of those times were spent at a hospital, like this time, but they have been visits to Primary Care.
It started out with going to Primary Care to ask for help with the headaches I was having for the first few visits. But after a while, I started going there for no reason at all.
One day after school, I had a hard day and long classes, immediately after my last class I drove straight to the local clinic to ask for migraine medication. It was completely instinctual. But after the visit for some reason I felt better and even though the visits were for small things, like for headaches or the flu; in a way, they’ve been one of the only things I can rely on for comfort this entire year.
It’s like the visits were filling some sort of void inside me. Not only that but after a couple of visits, people at my college were beginning to feel sympathetic towards me about it. Which is the kind of attention I didn’t receive since starting college.
I know it’s somewhat weird and almost wrong to be doing this, but not much harm has come from it, besides the minor expenses. Until the crash that just occurred, it was never serious, it was just something I was doing for myself.
The nurse continues writing on her clipboard, probably something about my subpar answer for the reason I was unbuckled. How should I know why I was unbuckled? I was clearly angry and upset, which meant I shouldn’t have been driving. The workload in one of my classes had frustrated me and I didn’t have anyone I could go to for advice or even a friend to turn to. Where was I going to go for comfort? I was off on the road to get medication, again.
Tears were streaming down my face and my throat felt dried to a crisp as I was driving. It felt like I could barely breath. In my head, the cars were moving at a million miles per hour and I was barely moving at all. I tried pulling over to catch my breath but it was as if the force of traffic kept the car driving. My head was clouded with my worries and especially with the thoughts of the lack of friends that I had. I couldn’t help but get angry at the lack of attention I received and how alone I felt. I couldn’t hold on for forever.
One thing led to another and I crashed, but right before the crash I remember my anger and frustration boiling up to something before the crash. It could’ve been, unbuckling the seatbelt, but I’m not sure. It’s all a blur. Somewhat.
Nurse Nelly, with a raise of an eyebrow, stops writing on her clipboard, asks me a few more questions, and walks out the door. I breathe out a sigh of relief after she leaves the room. I am now realising that right before the accident I did deliberately unbuckle my seatbelt and that no one can ever find out about this.
It was one of those spur of the moment instances, an act without expectation I suppose. I can’t be crazy though. I know why I did unbuckle my seatbelt.
What was going through my head in that exact situation, was the anger and frustration that was boiling up inside of me. I had no one to turn, not a friend to confine to, that was everything going through my mind as that car was about to crash.
Finally, in that moment out of utter frustration. I unbuckled. If no one would ever talk to me or be my friend in my good health, they were then going to have to talk to me with sympathy. It was all I could picture myself having.
That type of attention appealed a lot to me in that moment. Perhaps because it was the only type of attention I found possible in that moment. I had gone past my limit. What a thrill ride.
. . .
5/11/17
9:14 AM
Pain is shooting right out of my hip as it struggles to keep up with the rest of my body. I’m being guided to class by my loyal and trusted dormmate. The result of a dislocated hip from a car accident, though I did not know this moments before my injury, ensures the need of almost always having to be assisted by someone for the action of walking. At least for the first few days.
“We’re almost there,” Jennifer says, but all I can think about is what’s happened over the past few days. My Father and Mother came to the hospital the day I woke up and they were completely emotional and overwhelmed with paperwork for insurance, as expected. Which I have to admit I did feel a little bad about, but luckily I was still able to lay in bed the whole time and talk with the doctor.
Afterwards, the doctor helped me stand up for the first time (with help) and walk around (with help.) After a few practices, I was guided down the hall to visit the physical therapist, Dr. Compton. As my physical therapist, she trained me to strengthen my hip by doing different exercises over the day and a half I was staying in the hospital. It was nice having all these people willing to help me, surround me. A big part of me doesn’t want it to end so I’m thinking of going to go see my physical therapist sometime later this week.
We walk into class and I slowly take my seat. I look around and try to see if anyone notices, but everyone is working on their own work. I don’t know if I can take much more of this! Right as my body is going to make contact with the seat, I twist my foot around the leg of the seat and my whole body, along with the desk, lurches sideways and my injured hip impacts the ground and the sharp pains comes back. I groan out of anticipation and pain. The whole class of about twenty people turn around, my classmates sitting closest to me immediately come to my rescue.
“Oh my gosh!” “What happened?!” “Is your hip all right?” “Didn’t you just hurt your hip!?” “How’d you know that about her?” “I heard from a friend.” “What should we do?” “Our professor isn’t even here yet!” “I’ll take her! Everyone help her into my car!”
I take it all in. The attention. The sympathy. Something tells me I can’t get enough of it. My classmates help me stand up and the one that knew about the car accident asks me what they should do. I tell them it would be best if we went to my physical therapist.
The guy who offered to drive takes me in his car and drives me there and I go in to see my physical therapist through the Urgent Care. The Primary Care clerk directs me to a room and my physical therapist walks in a few minutes later.
“What seems to be the issue?” Dr. Compton asks. I explain to her what happened, how my hip hit the ground and now I need to find out if it is injured or if I dislocated it again. I, of course, leave out the part of how I purposely fell. She types up on her computer what happened and doesn’t motion for me to speak again for a few minutes. Her eyebrows furrow as I watch her click away on the computer and I can’t help but feel the sweat start to bead on my forehead. Jeez, how long is she going to look through my file? I try to remain relaxed.
“Could you go over again how exactly you hurt your hip?” Dr. Compton asks me while slowly looking up from her computer. My fingers begin to shake. “Well, as I was sitting down in my chair during my first class, I had to bend over my desk to reach for my textbook in my backpack. My foot was sort of in an awkward position as I was reaching down for it and I started falling. My foot tried to hold on to the chair leg but it ended up just twisting my body, making me fall on my injured hip.”
“Wow!” she says almost chuckling, “That seems almost improbable.” I almost mentally panick, but she’s still smiling so I keep my cool.
Dr. Compton checks out my hip and it turns out that I didn’t hit the exact area of the dislocation but I did bruise the area next to the hip. Which is good because it didn’t affect my hip’s healing process.
As we were going through the motions of checking out my hip and seeing if it was injured even more, Dr. Compton kept asking me questions about how things were going at college and if I was actively social or participating in activities outside of class. Mostly out of nerves I answered in the realm of everything’s fine and I’m mostly involved. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was asking because she knew I was sort of purposely hurting myself.
It’s now nearing the end of the half hour and Dr. Compton is typing more on the computer of what this visit concerned. She stops typing looks up at me and asks, “Did you know that this is the 15th time you’ve been in a medical facility since the beginning of this year?” I start to panic, “Mmm-hmmm,” is all I can think of to say. “And a lot of these times seem almost unneeded!” Dr. Compton exclaims. “For example, one week you came in three times just for migraine medication,” she says, “Are you doing alright in school?”
In that moment I know I’m caught, there’s no turning back. Part of me wants to burst out in tears over the thought of people getting involved and knowing about this and the other part of me wants to scream out in frustration, because no one understands!
I walk out. How could she? Is she suggesting I need help? Is she accusing me of taking advantage of the medical centers? My head is spinning. On a wheel of frustration and chaos it feels like. I need to get out.
. . .
5/12/17
4:28 PM
After I ran out on my visit with Dr. Compton, she called my parents and told them what she supposed was going on with me. My parents of course partially overreacted and wanted action to be taken immediately on how to solve my issues. So that’s what’s going on right now.
I am heading in a car to meet with a therapist/behavioral counselor to discuss my issues with visiting medical centers too often. My parents begged me to go over the phone last night and I feel like I owe it to them for worrying them so much.
As I’m driving, I see the Mental Health Facility and park near the front door. I walk in and see an older lady sitting behind a counter talking on the phone. I suppose she’s the clerk. I wait for her to finish speaking on the phone and tell her what I’m here for. She smiles and gives me directions to an upstairs office. I nod and walk away.
I walk up the stairs slowly, as if I’m about to avoid what’s going to happen next. I walk in the door and a smiling middle-age woman greets me. She’s the mom type I can tell. “Hi! How are you?” she says to me. Dang it! Don’t be nice I don’t want to like you. “I’m fine,” I say. “Take a seat! I’ve been dying to talk with you!” she exclaims. “I haven’t had a college student in a long time. Most of them are too busy with their studying to come see me.” I can already tell she’s good at her job. I feel comfortable and calm, just like I should be.
“What college do you attend?” she asks. “The UC school about 20 minutes away.” “Have you chosen a major yet?” she asks even more eagerly and I reply, “I’m currently undecided, but I’d like to choose something revolving around business and administration.” “Cool,” she says, “Has the workload been an adjustment at all this year?” “No I’m keeping up with everything,” I reply, “It’s certainly more work than high school.”
We talk more about what’s going on at school and what studies I’ve been looking into or am already involved in. After we finish discussing college studies, it gets to a point where she asks me: “so how are you doing?” For the first few seconds I don’t know how to process it. The question itself makes me wonder about how I want to feel.
I want to feel like:
What’s sad is that all of these things are the opposite of how I am feeling at the moment. In reality I’m lonely, overworked, frustrated, and I’m trying to solve all my issues by going to medical centers for “help.” I just don’t want to be alone anymore.
The therapist waits for me to answer but realizes how the question affects me so she brings up another similar but lighter subject. We get to talking more about how I’m doing and I can tell she’s beginning to understand how I’m really doing and actually feeling.
Our meeting ends and we arrange to meet again in a couple days. She gives me strict instructions to not go to a medical center for anything other than an emergency, which I’m fine with for the moment. I leave the room on a happy note and walk down the stairs back to my car. While I’m heading out the entry way I wave goodbye to the clerk, she smiles and waves back.
I get in my car, push the key into the ignition, and think to myself I’m not okay—. As I’m pulling out though, I think again --but I’m about to be. And I drive off.
11:02 AM
I open my eyes to what feels like a flashlight being shined in my face. Go away world. There is a sharp pain in my hip which I try to ignore. My eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and I immediately want to fall back into the deep depths of sleep. What happened?
The room I’m in feels small and the color of the walls are a neutral mix of brown and white. I forget what the color is called, but those community college art classes I took back in high school should really have prepared me more for situations like this.
I take a deep breath and lean back against my pillow. I close my eyes for a second and reopen them, just to see if the setting I’m in changes. It doesn’t. All I’m left with now are my thoughts.
At least I’m alone. My parents would be on me if they knew what happened. Oh Lord, they probably know. This situation will just lead to more questions and then they’ll really know what’s going on with me. I never thought it would go as far as this, but really I probably knew it all long. Wow, I’m pathetic. Friendless. Hopeless. The only comfort I have is this very institution I’m sitting in.
Of course this would happen. Stuff like this only happens to me. Of course, I’m lying here in a hospital bed. Of course, the car crashed. Of course, my parents are going to have to pay for all of it. And of COURSE it’s nobody’s fault, but mine.
I sit for awhile, I wish a nurse would come in soon. I’m tired of being alone in this puddle of dissatisfaction with myself for letting it go too far. Wow, I’m dramatic. As if on cue, the nurse walks in. She has a sweet smile plastered on her face, a clipboard in her hand, and a name tag with the name Nelly. “Oh, good,” she exclaims, “You’re awake!”
I smile back at her. “I’m all right, but who brought me here?” I manage to say. “We found you in your car crashed up against a tree, someone driving by saw you, called an ambulance, and here you are. But that’s not important right now. All you should do right now is rest.” “All right,” I reply, “What happened to my hip though?” “You somehow managed to unbuckle yourself while driving, and when you hit the tree your hip collided with the gearstick and unfortunately it dislocated your hip. Luckily, the doctors were able to stabilize your pelvis using the non-operative procedure.” Oh wow, I wonder what everyone at my university is going to think of this. “Wow,” I exclaim. “Do you remember at all unbuckling your seatbelt?” Nelly asks. “Honestly, no.” I answer despite the creeping voice in the back of my head saying that I did it for a particular reason.
Ever since I got into college, it’s like I don’t have time for spending time with friends or family. At the beginning of the school year, it felt great. I made friends fast and we all had a lot to talk about, but since then it’s has been difficult spending time with everyone with the work load. Not only that but when I was around everyone I didn’t feel very interesting, mostly because almost everyone was from somewhere else while I am fairly local to the college. It was almost like I always had to come up with something interesting to draw people’s attention, like a crazy story or an exaggeration of a life experience.
Before college, it felt easier to talk to people. I had good friends that I had known for almost forever, and it felt like I could be more open and more myself. Where I am now with friends, it almost feels like I have to work at it, like who I am isn’t exciting enough. It’s now nearing the end of my freshman year of college and this is either the seventh or eighth time I’ve been in a medical facility. None of those times were spent at a hospital, like this time, but they have been visits to Primary Care.
It started out with going to Primary Care to ask for help with the headaches I was having for the first few visits. But after a while, I started going there for no reason at all.
One day after school, I had a hard day and long classes, immediately after my last class I drove straight to the local clinic to ask for migraine medication. It was completely instinctual. But after the visit for some reason I felt better and even though the visits were for small things, like for headaches or the flu; in a way, they’ve been one of the only things I can rely on for comfort this entire year.
It’s like the visits were filling some sort of void inside me. Not only that but after a couple of visits, people at my college were beginning to feel sympathetic towards me about it. Which is the kind of attention I didn’t receive since starting college.
I know it’s somewhat weird and almost wrong to be doing this, but not much harm has come from it, besides the minor expenses. Until the crash that just occurred, it was never serious, it was just something I was doing for myself.
The nurse continues writing on her clipboard, probably something about my subpar answer for the reason I was unbuckled. How should I know why I was unbuckled? I was clearly angry and upset, which meant I shouldn’t have been driving. The workload in one of my classes had frustrated me and I didn’t have anyone I could go to for advice or even a friend to turn to. Where was I going to go for comfort? I was off on the road to get medication, again.
Tears were streaming down my face and my throat felt dried to a crisp as I was driving. It felt like I could barely breath. In my head, the cars were moving at a million miles per hour and I was barely moving at all. I tried pulling over to catch my breath but it was as if the force of traffic kept the car driving. My head was clouded with my worries and especially with the thoughts of the lack of friends that I had. I couldn’t help but get angry at the lack of attention I received and how alone I felt. I couldn’t hold on for forever.
One thing led to another and I crashed, but right before the crash I remember my anger and frustration boiling up to something before the crash. It could’ve been, unbuckling the seatbelt, but I’m not sure. It’s all a blur. Somewhat.
Nurse Nelly, with a raise of an eyebrow, stops writing on her clipboard, asks me a few more questions, and walks out the door. I breathe out a sigh of relief after she leaves the room. I am now realising that right before the accident I did deliberately unbuckle my seatbelt and that no one can ever find out about this.
It was one of those spur of the moment instances, an act without expectation I suppose. I can’t be crazy though. I know why I did unbuckle my seatbelt.
What was going through my head in that exact situation, was the anger and frustration that was boiling up inside of me. I had no one to turn, not a friend to confine to, that was everything going through my mind as that car was about to crash.
Finally, in that moment out of utter frustration. I unbuckled. If no one would ever talk to me or be my friend in my good health, they were then going to have to talk to me with sympathy. It was all I could picture myself having.
That type of attention appealed a lot to me in that moment. Perhaps because it was the only type of attention I found possible in that moment. I had gone past my limit. What a thrill ride.
. . .
5/11/17
9:14 AM
Pain is shooting right out of my hip as it struggles to keep up with the rest of my body. I’m being guided to class by my loyal and trusted dormmate. The result of a dislocated hip from a car accident, though I did not know this moments before my injury, ensures the need of almost always having to be assisted by someone for the action of walking. At least for the first few days.
“We’re almost there,” Jennifer says, but all I can think about is what’s happened over the past few days. My Father and Mother came to the hospital the day I woke up and they were completely emotional and overwhelmed with paperwork for insurance, as expected. Which I have to admit I did feel a little bad about, but luckily I was still able to lay in bed the whole time and talk with the doctor.
Afterwards, the doctor helped me stand up for the first time (with help) and walk around (with help.) After a few practices, I was guided down the hall to visit the physical therapist, Dr. Compton. As my physical therapist, she trained me to strengthen my hip by doing different exercises over the day and a half I was staying in the hospital. It was nice having all these people willing to help me, surround me. A big part of me doesn’t want it to end so I’m thinking of going to go see my physical therapist sometime later this week.
We walk into class and I slowly take my seat. I look around and try to see if anyone notices, but everyone is working on their own work. I don’t know if I can take much more of this! Right as my body is going to make contact with the seat, I twist my foot around the leg of the seat and my whole body, along with the desk, lurches sideways and my injured hip impacts the ground and the sharp pains comes back. I groan out of anticipation and pain. The whole class of about twenty people turn around, my classmates sitting closest to me immediately come to my rescue.
“Oh my gosh!” “What happened?!” “Is your hip all right?” “Didn’t you just hurt your hip!?” “How’d you know that about her?” “I heard from a friend.” “What should we do?” “Our professor isn’t even here yet!” “I’ll take her! Everyone help her into my car!”
I take it all in. The attention. The sympathy. Something tells me I can’t get enough of it. My classmates help me stand up and the one that knew about the car accident asks me what they should do. I tell them it would be best if we went to my physical therapist.
The guy who offered to drive takes me in his car and drives me there and I go in to see my physical therapist through the Urgent Care. The Primary Care clerk directs me to a room and my physical therapist walks in a few minutes later.
“What seems to be the issue?” Dr. Compton asks. I explain to her what happened, how my hip hit the ground and now I need to find out if it is injured or if I dislocated it again. I, of course, leave out the part of how I purposely fell. She types up on her computer what happened and doesn’t motion for me to speak again for a few minutes. Her eyebrows furrow as I watch her click away on the computer and I can’t help but feel the sweat start to bead on my forehead. Jeez, how long is she going to look through my file? I try to remain relaxed.
“Could you go over again how exactly you hurt your hip?” Dr. Compton asks me while slowly looking up from her computer. My fingers begin to shake. “Well, as I was sitting down in my chair during my first class, I had to bend over my desk to reach for my textbook in my backpack. My foot was sort of in an awkward position as I was reaching down for it and I started falling. My foot tried to hold on to the chair leg but it ended up just twisting my body, making me fall on my injured hip.”
“Wow!” she says almost chuckling, “That seems almost improbable.” I almost mentally panick, but she’s still smiling so I keep my cool.
Dr. Compton checks out my hip and it turns out that I didn’t hit the exact area of the dislocation but I did bruise the area next to the hip. Which is good because it didn’t affect my hip’s healing process.
As we were going through the motions of checking out my hip and seeing if it was injured even more, Dr. Compton kept asking me questions about how things were going at college and if I was actively social or participating in activities outside of class. Mostly out of nerves I answered in the realm of everything’s fine and I’m mostly involved. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was asking because she knew I was sort of purposely hurting myself.
It’s now nearing the end of the half hour and Dr. Compton is typing more on the computer of what this visit concerned. She stops typing looks up at me and asks, “Did you know that this is the 15th time you’ve been in a medical facility since the beginning of this year?” I start to panic, “Mmm-hmmm,” is all I can think of to say. “And a lot of these times seem almost unneeded!” Dr. Compton exclaims. “For example, one week you came in three times just for migraine medication,” she says, “Are you doing alright in school?”
In that moment I know I’m caught, there’s no turning back. Part of me wants to burst out in tears over the thought of people getting involved and knowing about this and the other part of me wants to scream out in frustration, because no one understands!
I walk out. How could she? Is she suggesting I need help? Is she accusing me of taking advantage of the medical centers? My head is spinning. On a wheel of frustration and chaos it feels like. I need to get out.
. . .
5/12/17
4:28 PM
After I ran out on my visit with Dr. Compton, she called my parents and told them what she supposed was going on with me. My parents of course partially overreacted and wanted action to be taken immediately on how to solve my issues. So that’s what’s going on right now.
I am heading in a car to meet with a therapist/behavioral counselor to discuss my issues with visiting medical centers too often. My parents begged me to go over the phone last night and I feel like I owe it to them for worrying them so much.
As I’m driving, I see the Mental Health Facility and park near the front door. I walk in and see an older lady sitting behind a counter talking on the phone. I suppose she’s the clerk. I wait for her to finish speaking on the phone and tell her what I’m here for. She smiles and gives me directions to an upstairs office. I nod and walk away.
I walk up the stairs slowly, as if I’m about to avoid what’s going to happen next. I walk in the door and a smiling middle-age woman greets me. She’s the mom type I can tell. “Hi! How are you?” she says to me. Dang it! Don’t be nice I don’t want to like you. “I’m fine,” I say. “Take a seat! I’ve been dying to talk with you!” she exclaims. “I haven’t had a college student in a long time. Most of them are too busy with their studying to come see me.” I can already tell she’s good at her job. I feel comfortable and calm, just like I should be.
“What college do you attend?” she asks. “The UC school about 20 minutes away.” “Have you chosen a major yet?” she asks even more eagerly and I reply, “I’m currently undecided, but I’d like to choose something revolving around business and administration.” “Cool,” she says, “Has the workload been an adjustment at all this year?” “No I’m keeping up with everything,” I reply, “It’s certainly more work than high school.”
We talk more about what’s going on at school and what studies I’ve been looking into or am already involved in. After we finish discussing college studies, it gets to a point where she asks me: “so how are you doing?” For the first few seconds I don’t know how to process it. The question itself makes me wonder about how I want to feel.
I want to feel like:
- I’m involved in school
- I’m participating in outside activities
- I have good friends to lean on
What’s sad is that all of these things are the opposite of how I am feeling at the moment. In reality I’m lonely, overworked, frustrated, and I’m trying to solve all my issues by going to medical centers for “help.” I just don’t want to be alone anymore.
The therapist waits for me to answer but realizes how the question affects me so she brings up another similar but lighter subject. We get to talking more about how I’m doing and I can tell she’s beginning to understand how I’m really doing and actually feeling.
Our meeting ends and we arrange to meet again in a couple days. She gives me strict instructions to not go to a medical center for anything other than an emergency, which I’m fine with for the moment. I leave the room on a happy note and walk down the stairs back to my car. While I’m heading out the entry way I wave goodbye to the clerk, she smiles and waves back.
I get in my car, push the key into the ignition, and think to myself I’m not okay—. As I’m pulling out though, I think again --but I’m about to be. And I drive off.