Week 7: Doctors and Intruders

  What am I doing here? Should I just go? Am I wasting her time?

The doctor had  just left the room, leaving me on the crinkling bench. A clipboard with a questionnaire is in my hands. The scene is all too familiar. Just a couple weeks ago I was here, same room, same crinkling, same paper. I look down at the questions. They ask about the severity of symptoms.

Reflecting on the answers to the questions brings me a certain dread. They’re more severe than last time. Will she be mad? Will she judge me? No that can’t be the case. She’s a medical professional and here to help. The number of questions with the answers five or four greatly outweighs those with ones. 

I sit back for a moment and look around the room. It seems colder than when I started, a little brighter, and a little smaller. I can hear the nurses and assistants outside, working as I dread the return of my doctor.

A couple weeks prior, the same questionnaire graced my presence for the first time. After a long discussion about my mental state, my doctor was curious to see if I had ADHD. The questions about symptoms seemed normal to me. Everyone feels this way, you’re just overreacting. After that visit, that sentiment didn’t sit well with me. I looked more into it, noticed my behavior, and talked with those around me. That led me back to the doctor’s room with more questions for myself.

What am I doing here? Should I just go? Am I wasting her time?

No you can’t leave.You’ve already made it this far, might as well see it through

You’ve been fine up until this point, why are you here?

I haven’t been fine. That’s why I’m here. I can’t keep telling myself I’m okay.

Are you really not okay?

I think so

How do you know you aren’t just lying about this?

The question sat across the room like an intruder. It watched me, made me doubt myself, made me want to leave. I gripped the bench. My eyes began to feel heavy and the black hole grew within my stomach. How do I know I’m not lying? 

I don’t know sometimes. After trying to be as logical as possible I still don’t. I can see the look on other’s faces when I forget important things. I can see the grades dropping due to lack of attention. I can feel the dread of focus and the anxiety of everything I’m focusing on. Thoughts race through my head and I can only hope to catch something worthwhile. Even after all of this, the intruder still asks their question.

The doctor comes back with a smile. I handed her the clipboard and I’m told what I expected. The intruder stands over her shoulder, watching me. After a moment goes by, I fill my lungs with air, and ask what’s next. We discuss what I’m going through, how to proceed, and medication. Her reassuring voice and bubbly attitude distracts me for a moment. When I look back around, the intruder is absent.

I still look at my medication each day and doubt if I need it. The intruder makes their daily visit, though their visits seem to be shorter and shorter as time passes. I may never fully know what’s really going on with me. All I know is I will do whatever I can to make my life as fulfilling as possible, no matter how many visits I get.