“Liz, it’s Mom. Where are you?”
I sagged against the wall as my mother rounded the corner. Her eyes grew large with alarm as she approached me slowly.”
“Why don’t you let me have that?” she spoke gently as she pried the knife from my hand. She led me to the sofa and made me sit.
“When have you last eaten?” she asked.
I looked up at her. “I’m eating. I had some bread and coffee.”
She arched an eyebrow, “Today?”
I stared at her for a moment. “What is today?”
“Thursday,” she replied.
I had somehow lost track of the days. I had thought it was Tuesday. She noticed my confusion.
“You look as if you hadn’t eaten, slept, or showered in days,” she said as if asking a question. She gave me a hard look, “I’m taking you to a doctor.”
I started to argue that I was fine. I didn’t need to see a doctor. Then I realized I couldn’t remember hardly anything from the last few days. All I could recall was drinking a cup of horrible coffee. I quietly said, “Okay.”
She had to help me in the shower and to get dressed. I felt incredibly weak, as if my bones had somehow dissolved. I sat in the car as she drove, staring out the window. My mind was blank and numb.”
As we sat waiting in the doctor’s office, people rushed by me in a blur. My head felt like it was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton. The sounds around me were muffled and muted. My mother handed me a magazine. I picked it up as if to say, what do I do with this? I laid it back down on the table it had come from.
Finally, she led me back to see the doctor. I sat in the room waiting for her to make an appearance. However, my usual doctor, Dr. Cantrall, didn’t enter. Instead, this was a tall, thin older man with a receding hairline. I looked at my mother.
“Dr. Cantrall is on vacation,” she whispered.
I frowned. I didn’t want to see a strange doctor.
“I hear you haven’t been eating or sleeping,” he said as an introduction. He sounded like he was scolding a child.
I glared at him. “I’m eating. I’m sleeping.”
He looked at my mother for confirmation.
My mother sighed, “She’s not eating or sleeping properly.”
The doctor continued talking to my mom but I stopped listening. I focused on a public health poster on the wall, staring at the woman in the photo.
“Liz, Liz!” my mother’s voice exclaimed. next page
Sydney Lawrence 