Short story: cells

I frequented the hospitals, I find that the true sense of “good health” is knowing my exact vitals and any thing involved. I know that sounds strange but how many of us can say they carry their own stethoscope or know there exact body weight after a meal. This last visit was no different. I wait for the usual rushed sighs as my doctor explains what I should already know. This visit seems different.

As The team of technicians and nurses rush back and forth I receive no consolidation for the worry in my mind.

I feel fine as usual but I did notice the looks the doctor gave me. Not one of hurt but one that I describe as sneaky. It was right before my shot.

I never ask what he injected me with and why would I. As I become unusually tired and sweaty, I yawn. My now scratchy throat is not soothed by clearing and soon gives way to a cough. The doctor enters again and said I will be free to go after a few test…

As lab technicians enter and leave the room I can not help but notice the beady looks in their eyes. They ask me which arm I wanted to have blood drawn from. I say the one they used to inject me with, silence which is only interrupted by the denying of any incident of that nature. Confused I prepare to have my blood drawn only to be injected again.

My health…

With a headache and no one to complain to or about I leave. I may never know what the injections were. I figured they will show in my cells.

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Published by David Vaughn

just getting started.

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