For my sister | Negan |

22 - Thank you

Old Mrs. Wright came to see me on my very first day here. And then again three days later. And now she's back again. She's convinced herself she has cancer even though there's not a single indication that she does. I've read her file in the meantime and found out that she used to visit the old doctor pretty much every week as well. Every time she was convinced she was dying with some sort of horrible disease, but the truth is that she's remarkably healthy for a 72-year-old.

'You say that, but you're not really looking', she says agitatedly. 'In all my life I've never found anyone with a mole that looks anything like mine.'

'So you've had this mole all your life?' I ask her.

'Yes!'

'And it's never changed in size or in color?'

'Well, no', she says, somewhat less confidently, sensing that she's walking into my trap. 'Although perhaps it used to be a bit darker', she mumbles unconvincingly.

'Mrs. Wright', I say, pushing down a frustrated sigh. 'I really can't find anything wrong with you. I'm afraid that if nothing changes, you still have many healthy years ahead of you. I really do advise you to save all those points you're spending on these visits. You should be using them to spoil yourself.'

'What do you know?' she snips at me as she angrily pushes her shirt back down, covering up the perfectly normal mole on her back. 'You're like 12 years old.'

I look over exasperatedly at Cal and roll my eyes at him behind my patient's back. He sniggers quietly and hides his face behind the magazine he's reading.

'Well, they're your points', I say, trying to stay professional. 'But I would advise you to only visit me if you really notice a change in your health.'

'Young people like you just don't want to work for your money anymore', she complains, refusing to get out of the examination chair. 'But if you think you can just brush me off that easily, you're in for a surprise.'

What money? I think exasperated. I lean back a little when she wags her finger at me like a stern old teacher or something.

'I don't know what else to tell you', I say, starting to lose my patience. 'You're welcome to ask for a second opinion if you can find yourself another doctor.'

'Little brat', she mumbles, glaring at me murderously. God, I do love my job, but...

'That's enough now, Mrs. Wright', Cal says sternly, getting up from his chair. He doesn't need to do anything else, because his intimidating form is finally enough to get Mrs. Wright out of the chair.

'Alright, alright, I'll go', she says, making a bit of a show of it as she climbs out of the chair with exaggerated difficulty. Then she's finally at the door, but she turns around for one last remark.

'I hope you feel good about yourself when you find my cold dead body in my bed.'

I look indignantly over at Cal, but then we both burst out in chuckles.

'Thanks for that', I tell him. 'She never would have left if you hadn't been here.'

'No worries. If she wants the privilege of calling you a brat, she should suffer full days with you, like I've been doing.'

'Your strength is admirable, Cal', I say sarcastically.

He grins, but before he can come up with a retort, we're disrupted by his portable radio going off.

'Cal? You copy?'

My ears perk up at the sound of Negan's voice, curious to hear what this is about.

'Yes, sir.'