As I fell to the ground, almost feeling as if it was in slow motion, I looked around myself and thought of the embarrassment that awaited me. I was simply enjoying a stroll through the hall! I was just walking! Only I wasn’t walking forward, I was walking backwards. Is it a crime to explore your imagination and have some creativity while you walk? I found out quickly that yes, it is a crime.


The minutes seemed to go by quickly after my foolish fall. I looked up as my friends stared down at me probably thinking that I was the biggest idiot alive. I had tripped on nothing! They continued to stare at me while they asked me if I was okay. “Do you think I’m okay!?!?” was the first thing that came rushing through mind. If I were okay, I don’t think I would be laying here on the floor! I didn’t want to make a scene, or create an opportunity for them to humiliate me in front of the class so I got up and walked with them to the classroom.

I tried to keep my little “accident” a secret, but my wrist was hurting beyond belief. The second the bell rang I was out of there. I ran to the car in a mad dash to hide any indication that I was in pain. I jumped in the car and shut the door behind me. I was then asked the typical question of the day, “How was school?” I was tempted to just say “Fine” and avoid getting into the big discussion that would follow, but I replied saying “Horrible.” The question that obviously came next was “Why?” I then explained the lovely day to my mother. It was at this point that I started to think of what was going to happen later that afternoon. Would I have to go to the doctor? Sit through agonizing hours of waiting? The answer to this was once again, yes.


As my mom and I drove to the doctor I started to get nervous and thought to myself “What if I really did break it?” We walked in and were “warmly welcomed” with the questions “What is your insurance?” “Oh great.” I thought, it’s going to cost my parents an arm and a leg to pay for this visit. Anyway, what kind of a welcoming gesture is that? After filling out forms, and billing information, we were finally seated to wait. It was then that we found out the exciting amount of time we would be seated there in the “Oh-so-comfortable” chairs. It would be about an hour before we would even get the privilege of going into the doctor’s room to wait again.

We sat there bored out of our minds, but trying to make the best of whatever cheesy Disney movie that was on. The movie wasn’t enough to cap my attention spam, so I slowly started to look around the room. I probably would’ve started to look around even if the movie was entertaining me, because of the hysterical baby that wouldn’t stop crying. The poor mother rocked the baby back and forth trying to quiet her so all the eyes in the room would leave them. To the other side of me was a man who looked as if he were near death. He gagged, and pleasantly surprised me with his ability to keep the vomit from exploding out of his throat. This continued for a while, but it only got worse when the coughing began. I decided that for my own health, I should probably look away. My eyes trailed back to the movie that had it’s own background music. By now years had gone by and I still sat there, unmoved, in the chair.

They called my name and I jumped out of the chair almost as fast as I ran out of the school building earlier that day. We were taken to the doctor’s office and hoped that maybe the waiting had come to an end. We were wrong. The waiting had most definitely not come to an end. It had only begun.

At least this time we were in a private room without the orchestra of crying babies and gagging men. There was also a shelf with magazines, and a box of Legos. I looked through the magazines to find that none of them interested me to the slightest. I contemplated getting the box of Legos out and playing with them when I remembered how old I was. I’m not sure what image that would’ve sent through the doctor’s head, but I’m guessing it wouldn’t be a good one.

After a few more years passed by, the doctor walked into the room. We greeted each other with smiles and proceeded on to business. He asked me what happened, so I told him. I may have twisted the story a little, but that doesn’t matter. He decided that it would probably be best to get an X-Ray and told us that a nurse would be with us in “A few minutes.”

I think that the doctors should save us all grief by telling the truth. The right thing to say would’ve been “She’ll be with you in MANY minutes.”

Those many minutes passed as I stared at the Lego box in curiosity, about to give up whatever pride that was left in me. The nurse came in and we walked into the x-ray room. She took the x-rays and then we were taken back to our “second home.” This room was starting to become very dear to me. She left the room saying, “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes!” I impatiently mumbled under my breath, “in MANY minutes.” At this point we figured it would be coming to an end soon, so we quietly waited for the doctor’s arrival.

He finally walked in, said “Thanks for waiting” and then seated himself on his stool. I thought in my head “You better be thankful for our waiting.” He looked at the x-rays we had taken and came to a conclusion. He looked at us and said that it was nothing severe and just a sprain. The thoughts that came rushing to my head after that should probably be left unsaid, but I was angry. We had spent a day in there just to find out that there was nothing he could do about it.

We left our “second home” and walked past the waiting room where the gagging man still waited. It looked like he couldn’t hold it in anymore, because there were stains on the carpet, and it reeked like crazy. I wished him good luck, and said “It will only be a few more minutes” as I walked out the door and took a deep breath of fresh air in the night sky.