Band X

Chapter 8: Depressed Scumbags

I also had some blood work done, although I'm not sure why. I don't think that passing out like I did has anything to do with my bad back so I'm pretty sure something else is wrong with me. The thought makes my heart race a little bit. I try to imagine the doctor saying that I'm fine, it was a one-time thing, and then I go home with my mom to eat whatever I want, gluten included, and do some Netflix binging in my comfortable bed. But, I know they're going to find something and I can't overdo it on gluten-full food. I mean, I could, but then my intestines would revolt and attack me. I have a sudden vision of the stage at Isabelle's house and me, doubled over in stomach pain, with the rest of the band looking on in horror and resolve to never even look at food with gluten in it again.

We arrive at the doctor's office and, as usual, I don't want to go in. My mother humors me, letting me sit in the car for a little while. It dawns on me that she rushes me so much that we're often early to my appointments. Maybe she actually has a reason for acting like a lunatic as she shoves me out the door. Running to the car is one thing but running into the doctor's office before I've had a chance to mentally prepare myself for whatever bad news they might have for me this time is completely different. And highly stressful.

I hate it when anyone-usually my mom, of course-rushes me at the store when I'm picking something out or just browsing. I can feel my anxiety growing as she stares at me, arms crossed, sighing impatiently. I can't imagine what I'd feel like if I couldn't center myself a little bit and take some deep breaths before entering the sterile, stuffy medical building. So, maybe my mother isn't being her usual always in a hurry self. Maybe she just wants me to sit in the car so I can be more comfortable when we finally go in.

I look over at her and my eyes tear up a little bit. Then I realize that this technique of hers benefits her, too. If I'm more comfortable I'm more likely to talk to the doctor and less likely to act like a jerk. Jerkiness is sometimes a side effect of my insecurities and it really pisses my mother off. I feel less sentimental about her now.

I wipe my tears away before they can fall. "Ready? Isn't my appointment starting in like two minutes?"

She's sitting with her eyes closed and looks like she's fallen asleep which could be a possibility. My mother can fall asleep anywhere and says that if she could get paid for sleeping, we'd be rich. Her eyes snap open. "Yep! Let's go!"

We check in with the front desk and take two seats in the main waiting room. I'm not sure what I want right now. I know that I need to find out what's wrong with me, but what if it's really bad? Or what if they really haven't figured anything out yet and I have to go in for more testing? I hate medical tests. This isn't earth shattering news. Who likes them, really? So what's worse? Hearing really bad news or hearing that they have no news at all?

I feel my mom staring at me. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" I have no idea what she's talking about.

"Stop worrying so much. I can see that brain of yours moving a mile a minute."

She's spooky sometimes. Before I can respond I hear someone call my name and it's time for us to follow the nurse back to the exam room. She tells us Dr. Lim will be right with us and quickly leaves the room.

He must be running behind because we have to wait in that small room with spotty cell reception for another 20 minutes before he finally knocks on the door and opens the door. I'm waiting for a text from Isabelle about our next practice but give up. Nothing is working on my phone right now and even though I know I can't use it, I reluctantly put it down next to me on the exam table and focus on the doctor.

"Hi Carter!" Dr. Lim enthusiastically shakes my hand and then turns to my mom and does the same as he says hello to her.

My mom leans forward expectantly as Dr. Lim gets right to business. He taps a few keys on his computer keyboard and brings up images from my MRI.