Room Four

In the past two weeks have you had any of the following, little interest, or pleasure in doing things, feeling down, depressed, or hopeless, trouble falling or staying asleep or sleeping too much, feeling tired or having little energy, poor appetite, or overeating, feeling bad about yourself, feeling as you are a failure to yourself or others, trouble concentrating, thoughts of harming yourself, thought you were better off dead? Rate these off a scale zero to three, zero being not at all, one being sometimes, two being more than half of the days and three being nearly every day.

I told myself that I wanted to get help, going to the doctor for help doesn’t make me weak, but sitting here in this quiet empty room, clipboard in hand, I feel like the truth won’t come out. If I were honest, I would have marked three for all of these but maybe I am just being dramatic.

The nurse calls my name, I barely heard her I was still focusing on the blank page in front of me. She took me down a long hallway.

“Please remove your shoes and step on the scale.” Great another boost in my self-confidence.

“Right this way, you will be in room four” she said as she motioned to a small room with gray wallpaper, for a place that you go to feel better they sure didn’t decorate for the occasion.

She continues to ask all the standard questions and I answered them honestly. Yes, I smoke, yes, I have beer from time to time, I feel safe in my home. I felt as if this appointment may not be as bad as I thought it was going to be, that was until she asked me if I had finished filling out the form, I was given in the waiting room.

I looked down in my lap where the clipboard had been resting and looked back at her. I think she sensed the fear in my eyes.

She smiled and said, “don’t worry about it, we can just fill it out verbally now and I can put it in your chart.”

Apparently, she did not grasp how I was feeling at all. I can read and write; I didn’t need help filling them out. But I was stuck now, so she began asking the questions, reading them straight off the paper, one after another.

I wanted help, I came here to get help, I know I have to be honest, but the words are not coming out. I make jokes of what she asks me and watch her type the lies I tell her into the computer.

Harm myself? Nope. What I didn’t tell her is the reason I am sitting across from her now is because I woke up this morning when I had planned to never see the sun rise again.

She seemed pleased with the answers I gave her and flashed me a big smile as she shut her laptop. “Dr. Micheum will be in to see you.”

I took a sigh of relief as I watched the door close behind her.

I don’t know why I was so pleased with myself for deceiving her, I came here to feel better, lying will not do me any good. Still, I felt if I could convince the doctor I was fine then maybe I was.

I sat on the hard, paper covered, bed for what seemed to be hours before hearing a knock at the door. I felt my stomach tighten and chocked out the words, come in.

At this point all I wanted to do is walk back down the hallway, past the front desk, and out the door. I made a mistake coming here and now I am too far in to just leave. I had two options, continue to lie, or admit I lied.

I was relived and confused when in popped the nurse again. “Doc wants a urine test before he comes in.”

If I was this stressed out by the knock on the door what is going to happen when the actual doctor comes in?

I followed the nurse further down the hallway till we hit the bathrooms. She explained how to take a urine sample, because it appears that it is hard to pee in a cup. I walked into the bathroom and of course I was nervous to go, stage fright. I pleaded with my body to just pee so I could get out of there.

After what I believed to be an eternity, and peeing on my hand, I had the sample. I washed my hands and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. If anyone saw me walking around, they would probably think I was haunting the place. I was pale white, my eyes looked like they were dams about to burst, and dark bags under my eyes. This appointment has put more of a strain on my mental health than it has fixed it.

I walked back into the hallway to find the nurse leaning against the wall, she had been standing there waiting this whole time. I looked at her for a minute before she looked up and saw me standing there holding the cup of pee. She smiled and took the cup from me and showed me the way back to my room.

Who would have guessed I would be happy to see that uncomfortable excuse for a bed again? I sat down and thought about the person in the mirror. I didn’t notice leaving the house that I had not only forgot to brush my hair, but I didn’t even bother to fix it from when I woke up this morning. I looked like I had just crawled out from under a bridge. Maybe I did need the help I came in for.

I counted the ceiling tiles, looking for any odd shaped I could find in the texture of them. I was no longer panicked, now I was just bored.

I could hear a deep voice talking with someone outside my door. I tried to piece together who they were talking about, when suddenly the door swung open.

In front of me stood a giant of a man, he was not only tall, but you could have fit a school bus between his shoulders. I stared as he walked in and sat down.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Micheum.” He extended his huge hand out and I shook his hand. “What brings you in today, Maggie?”

The moment of truth, time to tell him everything I told the nurse was a lie and get my life back.

But instead, I froze, it was as if I couldn’t get the words out. He looked up from his computer and stared at me.

“Would you be more comfortable with a female physician?” He asked sympathetically.

I shook my head no and staired down at my feet. I could tell I was raising more red flags by not talking than just making something up. I finally looked up and told him I was there because I am worried about my sleeping habits.

I thought I hit a homerun with that excuse, I didn’t even know where it came from until he looked closely at his laptop and back at me and informed me that my chart says I have been “sleeping like a baby.”

Smooth move. I lied to cover the fact I lied and got caught in a bigger lie.

I tried to laugh it off, but I could tell that he knew I was hiding something. He told me the door is not locked, I was not being held against my will and if I didn’t want to be there then I could leave at any time. Lying to him was not going to help me with whatever I came in for.

I stood up from the bed and started toward the door, once I opened the door I turned back and he said “Whatever it is, you know you need help, you knew enough to come here, but you have to let us help. When you are ready you know where to find us.”

And with that I left the room and headed out to the front desk.

The woman behind the counter was wearing a headset, she asked me as I walked past her if I needed to schedule another appointment. I felt sick, I ignored her as I made a straight line to the exit. I ran through the parking lot until I hit my car. Once I was safe inside, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I sat in the parking lot with my engine off for nearly an hour before I felt I was okay to drive.