Dr. Karton assembled the features of his face into what he hoped was a reassuring smile and stepped into the waiting room. He automatically looked to the faded chairs resting against the peeling wall paint. His eyes registered a hint of brown at the bottom of his peripheral vision. Dropping his gaze, the doctor was surprised to see his patient kneeling on the floor.
He rushed over to her and mentally noted her condition: Beads of sweat on forehead, dilated pupils, hyperventilating, hand tremors. A panic attack was the likely culprit so he started to reassure her in a soothing voice. He encouraged her to breathe slowly by counting. After a few minutes, she had calmed enough to be helped into a stiff chair.
Sinking into the chair beside her, Dr. Karton assessed the situation. His patient had just recovered from her panic attack and would soon ask about the results of her lab tests. He picked at a hole in the fabric of the seat while he tried to form an appropriate response to the inevitable question.
He had only decided on starting with Miss Johnson…, when the still trembling woman beside him found her voice.
So, Doctor, be honest with me…is it bad?
[To Be Continued]
It would take time. Bry knew that, but it didn’t stop her from tapping her foot or glancing at the time. Most days, she was a patient person and most people would agree with her assessment. Today was not one of those days.
Her forehead creased in ways that it hadn’t in months as her face betrayed her nervousness worse than her shaking knees. She started twirling a brown curl between her fingers just to give them something to do. Nothing is wrong; it just takes time. She repeated the seven words like a mantra until they were the only words in her head.
Nothing is wrong. Bry’s eyes were not focused and shining from the tears that had been welling up over the past few minutes. It just takes time. Her legs finally gave in to the gravity of the situation, and she fell to her knees.
The impact jarred her mind out of the trance and back into the chaos of fear. Is this a heart attack? She wasn’t sure.
She was in the right place for one; the hospital surely knew how to handle the situation, but the waiting room did not have any other people in it. That would be ironic: dying of a heart attack while waiting for lab results. Her dark thoughts were momentarily pushed out of her mind as she tried to remember if she was using the word ironic correctly. In that pause, the door to the waiting room creaked open.
[To Be Continued]
Okay, I obviously lied again about starting to post more. I had serious trouble coming up with an idea for this year’s NaNoWriMo (more information at nanowrimo.org). So here is an update about my writing and the future of this blog.
I was recently named one of the winners of a poetry contest and will have one of my poems on a bus. I am thankful for the opportunity, honored by the selection, and ridiculously giddy about the format (I mean: how many people get to say they had a poem on a bus?).
I have decided to participate in this year’s NaNoWriMo. I was trying to expand an idea I had into something that could be made into a novel, but I wasn’t sure that it was sustainable. This problem has been bothering me for weeks. I suddenly came up with an idea this morning (around 2 AM). It will be called The Nature of Frailty. The short synopsis: “an interplanetary novelization of Hamlet“. It is going to be ridiculous.
So where does that leave this blog? I might try to post some excerpts from the novel as I write it or note any insights I have about the writing process. Otherwise, I will start posting again in December.