Doctor: I saw how you tossed my file
across the desk, and all of the papers
spilled out onto the floor. Symbolic.
But you, you were annoyed, that you
had to pick up my pieces and jam them
back in the file, weren’t you? I know.
I heard your annoyed sigh as I walked
away, and you reminded me, again,
that I could find another doctor.
And all I was trying to do was make it
out the door without letting slip
the torrent of tears that began to build
back in your office, when you said,
“You make my job difficult.” I lost
my words then, so you continued:
“And how I am supposed to work
around this eating disorder thing,
or whatever it is?” My eyes were
on the floor, but I still saw your look
of disgust at my 100 pound body.
And did I even care how hard it was
on you that I didn’t want to take more pills,
but for God’s sake did I realize I have
a brain tumor, a divorce, no family here,
I am not sleeping or eating….and, you, doctor,
said five prescriptions are what I need.
When I said I just needed time and support,
you said I was difficult and uncooperative.
And I stopped speaking because,
what could I say? And you called me
noncompliant, that I was tying your hands
behind your back in attempt to gain power,
and my mind whispered……no, i am trying
to survive. But you didn’t hear, because
you were drawing up a document for me
to sign that said if I kill myself, you are not
legally liable. I signed it.
so I could leave. you never looked
at my face. or you might