immunization consultation.
i'm not even sick.
i haven't been in the doctor's office
in years.
and that's how i liked it.
but with traveling to Africa comes with a series of shots.
i turn the doorknob and entered.
same sticky door.
i
look around the office.
same outdated fake wood paneling.
flyers taped to the walls.
same everything.
unfortunately
this means same smell as well.
i pick a seat next to a man.
he's my father,
but
i pretend not to know him because,
well, he's reading Chatelaine.
supposedly for the "recipes"
i sit down.
same hard chairs.
so hard and uncomfortable
they
make whatever ails you
just that much worse.
i'm not even sick.
i go back to studying my surroundings.
same old radio
playing "summer breeze".
that radio was too old
even back when i was younger.
and still no clock in sight.
they
don't want you knowing
how much of you life you waste away
waiting for the doctor
to tell you nothing's wrong.
bored, i head to the bookshelf
searching for the same
book i read
every time i've ever been to the doctor's.
the popcorn book.
the one thing that's changed.
it's not
there.
i go back to my seat
next to my father.
who, after
my mocking of him
is reading Sports Illustrated.
i begin to watch the others around me
they're all sick.
i
realize that all this time
i've been inhaling their sickness.
their sick crystals are in the air.
i'm not even sick
but
fear i may soon be
the sticky door is pushed open
a blond curly haired
seemingly healthy gentleman enters
wearing a slick pinstriped suit
making me feel uncomfortably under-dressed
for
a visit to the doctor's office
he grabs a magazine off the shelf
it's not Chatelaine.
it's
a business magazine.
as he reads he bobs his head
either in time with the music
or as if to say
"look at me
i'm
an intellectual"
my name is called after an eternity
and take the familiar
trek to the back room.
it has an even more unfortunate smell
than the first.
all too familiar.
one thing is new
inside.
a small sign that reads
"no more than
2 problems per visit"
i don't have any
i'm not even sick.
after several more minutes
of waiting for the doctor
we
spend a short few moments
talking before
i'm told to come back
sometime in two weeks.
there's nothing he can
do for me now.
i make my way back into the
sick crystal infested
waiting
room
and out the sticky door.
i'm sure that
now i'm sick.
