Physicians are supposed to be neutral, right? They’re supposed to be objective and yet maintain an air of concern for their patients, right?
So, why did I feel so self-conscious as I waited in the doctor’s office today? I was just there to get my crazy pills refilled. My Polish head doc left town a few months ago, so I’ve had to call in refills at my primary care physician’s office. Today, though, I had to sit in his office waiting to actually see him.
It was that uneasy feeling you get like right before a court hearing. Like that feeling you got when you were a kid and sat waiting for the principal to come in and tear you a new one.
It was shame. That’s why I felt so small.
The last time Dr. Cook saw me, I was laying, half-conscious, in a hospital bed. IVs in my arm and doped up on inhuman amounts of Adivan. Having not bathed in weeks and likely smelling like death, I half-greeted Dr. Cook with an indiscernible gurgle.
He didn’t say anything to me. He had seen me in that bed two other times during a three-month period. Detoxing.
Well, I was better today, but I felt so tense. I felt guilty.
As to be expected, everything went normal. He asked how I was. He asked about my family. He asked how long I had been sober and if I still “drank a little bit.”
“Nope,” I told him. “I can’t drink a drop. I’ll die.”
“Probably.”
He checked my blood pressure, heart rate and gave me a script for more crazy pills.
It went a lot smoother than I expected. For some reason, I don’t know why, I expected the doctor to come in and yell at me. Call me a raging lunatic. To tell me I was a horrible person. Call me a drunk. A piece of garbage.
Deep down, I knew that wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t, but it’s what I expected for some reason.
I had been dreading that doctor’s visit since I got sober almost two years ago. I think it was healthy to face that irrational fear, though.
Now, I have to go make a dentist appointment. THOSE fuckers guilt everyone, so I’ve heard. Irrelevant. They’re not even real doctors.
- David C. Garcia
This reads like the beginning of a book. You have talent, my friend.