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'One, two, three.'
But I feel nothing. Is this a good sign or a bad sign? I don't know, and the doctor won't tell me. Neither will my parents. Why am I here and why have I been here so long. All the others have been sent home. Now it is just my parents, the doctor, a few nurses, some machines, and myself left.
I open my eyes and say, 'I didn't feel anything'.
The doctor looks concerned, which concerns my parents, which concerns me. What does that look on the doctors' face mean? Am I okay or am I not okay? That is what I want to just blurt out into the still room with the only sound being the breathing of my parents, the doctor, the one nurse, and myself; and the beeping of a machine which I have no clue as to what its purpose is.
I turn to look at my parents. They won't look at me; they are too busy giving the doctor a look that I have never seen my parents give anyone before. A look so cold, that it could freeze the coy pond in our backyard on a hot summer day. This scares me more than the lack of response I get from the doctor. The silence in the room is chilling. I still haven't gotten an answer as to why I am here. And now I am not so sure I want one. I am curious as to why no one is talking. Is it really that bad, or do they just not want me to hear? And in that case I wish they would just go out in the hall and discuss whatever they don't want me to hear so someone can tell what is going on.
Finally, my father, Jim, asks the doctor to step outside and speak with him. This leaves me a bit relieved. Now I can talk with my mother, Candice, about what it is the doctor is keeping me here for.
I speak up, 'Mom, what's wrong? What is wrong with me? Am I sick, or what?'
I have been experiencing some fainting spells lately and I don't quite feel myself. It was my mothers' idea to take me to the doctors'. She always was very health conscious. But now that quality worries me most. Whenever she was worried about something, she would never talk about it. She would only confront it, if it needed confronting. And now she was not talking about what needed, to me, be confronted.
She fidgeted a bit with her hands and hair, like she does when she is nervous, before she spoke up, 'I'm not sure Parker. The doctor hasn't gotten the results from the tests yet. But he will be back soon, and then we will know.'
'Know what,' I blurt out.
'We aren't sure yet, but that is what the tests will confirm.'
And there we sit in the cold room that is a little to white for my taste. But what health clinic doesn't have a depressing color pallet. All you ever see in those places are whites and grays. The only splashes of color are the patients themselves and the occasional nurse's smock. But still it would be pretty hard to sit in the same room I am in for this amount of time even if it was bright colors instead if this drab white and gray thing they have going on.
The suspense is killing me and not the good kind of suspense like if you will win the student of the month award, or will Asher kill Cameron in next week's episode. It is the bad kind of suspense like do I have a life-threatening disease, or will Asher kill Cameron in next week's episode.
I might jump out the open window beside me if I have to wait another minute. Luckily, the doctor and my father, accompanied by a nurse carrying a lot of papers, walk in the room as I am preparing to make a running jump for the window. The doctor has a very serious look on his face.
The next thing out of his mouth sends my mother into tears and me into shock, 'It's positive'.