Mr. Metzler we have bad news.
Dane turned the corner from 1st street onto Main and was pleased to see the traffic was light.
He was already running behind because the man at the lunch counter took too long to prepare his food.
It wasn’t very good anyways, Dane reflected.
He was in a bad mood because he didn’t want to be doing this anyways.
I hate going to the doctor.
The stop light ahead turned red and Dane eased his foot on the break.
What a nice day, not too hot, slight breeze, sun’s out…
Green.
He couldn’t remember how long the pain had been present.
Usually, Dane ignored it, but it had finally gotten to a point where he had to do something.
The anxiety was growing too great.
Cancer?
It wasn’t constant so he tried not to pay attention to it.
Weekness.
It wasn’t disrupting his sleep.
Yet.
Constipation?
He felt silly going to a doctor with such a vague description of symptoms.
Google was no help.
“Are you okay?” Sadie asked.
“Huh?”
“You don’t look so good Dane. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be alright.” I think.
“Shouldn’t you go see a doctor? You’ve only gotten worse over the last few months.”
Last few months!
“Uh yeah, maybe I will,” Dane responded despondently.
I didn’t realize it had been going on so long and was so noticeable.
“Here,” Sadie added handing him a slip of paper. “This is the number to Dr. Langley. He comes highly recommended.”
“Thanks.”
Dane drummed his fingers nervously on his desk as the phone rang.
What am I going to tell them? I hate this.
The phone connection clicked on.
“Dr. Langley’s office, how may I direct your call?”
“I, uh, I need, would like to set up an appointment with Dr. Langley, please...” Dane stumbled through the opening.
“Right. We just need some more information from you and we’ll get you all set. Full name?”
“Dane Metzler.”
“Reason for your visit?”
“Digestion issues.”
Digestion issues? Yeah… I guess I’ll start with that.
“When would you like to come in?”
“Any way possible for me to come in today, maybe around 1:00?”
“We can do 1:15. If you give me your email, I will send you the New Patient forms.”
“Great, thank you.”
Dane hung up the phone and stared blankly at his cubicle wall.
Dane handed the receptionist his forms as he signed the check in sheet.
“You can take a seat over there,” Amy directed after taking his papers.
Dane sat in the empty waiting room and looked around.
He was uncomfortable both physically and mentally.
Why did I even bother? They aren’t going to know what’s wrong with me. This is such a waste.
Why do I even have to wait? There’s nobody else even here…
I wonder if that receptionist is single.
“Mr. Metzler, the doctor will see you now,” Amy called from the half open door that was next to her receptionist window.
Dane got up and walked towards her like a prisoner about to be handed his sentencing.
After struggling to describe his symptoms, Dane waited while the doctor stepped out of the room.
He fidgeted anxiously.
How long was this going to take?
What was wrong with him?
Finally the door opened and Dr. Langley returned.
Mr. Metzler we have bad news.
Written by Michael Paine
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