Going Under In The Waiting Room

June 6, 2012
By Anonymous

Everything is fuzzy.
Like a Holga camera shot; sunspots in the centers of my eyes.

Everything makes my head hurt,
Just keep walking..

Dress out, no one notices how off-balance I have become.
But neither do I.

Make it to second period.
Try to focus on the nothingness that you have scribbled down on the pages.

I walk on out.

Make it to the bathroom, and watch my face.
Lean over the toilet.
Look in the mirror.
I can't make it out; it's too faded.

Take out my phone,
"Hey it's me. Can you bring me Asprin?
I think I hit my head."

I am bombarded by questions.

It's all just faint white noise.
But I can make out two words,
"Nurse. Go."

I'm too disoriented to make a good argument,
I hate having to ask for help.

Somehow I manage to make it to the office.
I tell her my story about what happened.

I lay back in a chair, and the attendant warns me not to enter the actual sick ward.
There is already a pretty sick girl throwing up in there and she doesn't want me to catch what she has.

Turns out, that girl was having a reaction to her medication.

The lady tells me I'm overreacting and asks for my guardians phone number.
I can barely manage the first three digits, "878---"

And I'm dashing for the bathroom.
I keep my head in the toilet for about 40 minutes.

I have a black out.

The other girl finds me, and I make it to the couch.
There is only one nurse for our entire district.
Her pictures line the desk; the desk is dusty.
And I'm laying down trying to block out all the light thinking,
"I could sue this place."
Yeah, honestly.

Me and the other girl take turns throwing up.
My head is literally throbbing.
I remember asking her, "Do you need to puke or can I?"

She gets picked up, and I am left for another 2 hours of intense Hellishness.

Everything is fading in and out.
Going under...

I dry heave endlessly.
And eventually my sister picks me up.
I am taken to doctor after doctor...

They can't find out what is wrong with me.

Emergency Room time.

I'm fuzzy.
And I wait what seems to be an eternity.

I'm laid down on a bed and asked more questions.
I have not the strength nor patience to repeat it one more time..

I can't stand on my feet as I grab for the walls.
None of the doctors really care as they type prescriptions and papers.
I fall into a wheelchair and take numerous scans..

I can feel myself going under again...

Thin sheets separate me from the others,
I never want to go back to that place again.

They hook me up to a heart monitor and give me pain meds,
Thank God for pain meds...

To entertain myself, I quicken my breathing; making patterns on the machine, like a game.

I hold my breath.
So the machine registers my untimely death.

Then, I feel myself slipping away again...

I think to myself, "It must be the pain killers.."

And then,
I go under.

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