Standing Out

I had lain in the hospital bed for another long week and I daresay I had become immobile. To be honest, I didn’t mind being “bedridden.” I didn’t have to do anything and the doctors were like waitresses. If I asked for another bag of cheese curls, they would fetch it for me. They even made me a milkshake on Tuesday.

My only issue was that they kept my health so confidential. I kept asking if I would recover soon, what periorbital cellulitis was, and if I would ever return to school, but I would only get a “lie down, sweetheart” or a “you’re starting to look tired, so maybe you should rest.” I was pretty sure that they didn’t and weren’t going to answer my questions.

Even though Dr. Perry told me my condition and I was already aware of the medical turmoil that I was in, he still refused to further explain. I was starting to think that I wasn’t going to end up being the brain-damaged one.

Fortunately, my fever was improving and I was a bit more stabilized than last week. But that didn’t really change my parents’ opinions of Dr. Perry. They had a real showdown with the disgruntled secretary regarding the issue. I think that even if you were outside of the building, you still could have heard the shouting.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I would like to report a problem.” Mama was walking on thin ice and anyone could have foreseen the reply.

The secretary irately glanced up. “Well, you’re my problem and you’re interrupting my work. Does that mean I should report that?”

“No, ma’am it’s a medical emergency.” Papa pressed gently.

“And why should I help you? I’ve already dealt with your other ‘medical emergency’ about a week ago.”

“If you didn’t want to assist people, then why did you become a secretary?” Mama raised her voice.

“I didn’t know that I would have to deal with a miserable lot that assumes that their problems outweigh other people’s problems.” She inhaled slowly and then let out a breath of exasperation. “Like you, Anderson.”

“Look, this is serious. My little girl’s life rests in your hands.” Papa was pleading now. “Please listen.”

“I assume that no matter what I say you’re not going to leave, so what is it?” Papa was beaming, but the secretary couldn’t have looked less enthusiastic. “Well, get on with it.”

Mama was still glaring and could care less about the secretary’s busy schedule. “I need to report Dr. Perry for incompetence and insensitivity. He has misdiagnosed Mya on multiple occasions and it was only on May 12 that she was given the proper medications. In the time spent treating her incorrectly, she continued to suffer and very likely could have died if the infection had a bit more time to spread to her brain. I request reimbursement for the damages done to my family and Mya and further action to be taken on Dr. Perry’s ineptitude.”

Papa was nodding the whole time, but apparently Mama’s eloquent speech wasn’t enough and he had something to add. “Dr. Perry’s sensitivity to the situation was also poor. He had a clear lack of empathy as he declared the state of the infection and the worst possible outcome of it. He even told Mya about her condition, and as a parent, that should have remained private unless I gave consent. The last thing Mya needs is to be demoralized.”

The secretary clearly wasn’t listening. She was chewing like a cow on her bubblegum and scribbling on her notepad. Blow. Pop. Blow. Pop.

Mama was exceptionally irate at this point, “Were you even listening?”

“Hmm,” The secretary bit her pencil. “That looks good. Yes, that file belongs right there.”

“Excuse us, ma’am, but we were talking to you.” Papa resumed his role as the pacifist.

The secretary didn’t look up. That had done it. She had crossed Mama’s invisible line.

She spoke very slowly, gritting her teeth as the words escaped her writhing mouth, “Is there someone else that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, just go over to the Cancer Institute.”

“No, I mean here. Is there another secretary?”

“My apprentice is on the bottom floor.”

Aggravated, my parents took the elevator down to the lower floor and were fortunate enough to find this apprentice. She was a bit more understanding and actually reported the incident. I wish they just asked for the secretary’s numero dos in the first place.

As I stood on the outside of the conversation, I was really looking on the inside. I had seen once again how little other people care about my well-being.