Bullied (18+)

 

Chapter 6: Clinic

Not long after what would be spread around school as the Nurse’s Office Incident, someone finally came to pick me up.

One of the squad cars was given a low priority pick-up for me, since I was surrounded by a walled-in school, and to drive me on over to the Health Clinic. Mike was supposed to be waiting there, being temporarily excused from his post, apparently having an unmarked vehicle stationed near the house, just in case.

Going into the doc’s waiting room, I was greeted by the now getting familiar voice of Mike. “Hey, Sport. Guess we have a chance to eat out?” I smirked and peeked at him -- my eyes felt a tad bit better -- to see he had stood up from one of those leaned-back cheap lounge chairs in the corner. Mike waved off the trooper who escorted me in, saying: “I’ve got him, thanks.”

“Did you hear anything about the teacher at school?” I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to mention that, but I hadn’t heard anything. The fact was -- despite Mrs. Pureview being a real bitch -- whatever had happened to her, it wasn’t a desire of mine. That was serious suffering back there.

Mike shook his head, “No. What happened?” He helped me over to one of the seats while going over to the receptionist’s desk to sign me in. 

I summarized it fairly short and simply: “Mrs. Pureview, a teacher there, had a seizure. A really bad one right next to where I was in the nurse’s office.”

“That must have been terrible.” He came back and sat next to me while asking, “You liked her?”

With a flinch, I quickly cleared that one out: “Not in the slightest.”

“Sucks. Sometimes it’s those teachers you hate that are trying their best to improve your worth.” After he said that, I made a derisive ‘Pfft.’ “Hey. You never know.”

Lifting a hand to him -- to catch his attention to this one -- I let him know, “Believe me, she’s not. Expelling me was her main goal.”

“That’s harsh. You picked the wrong time of the month to pull a fast one on her?” When he said ”fast one on her,” my mind thought of doing a ‘quickie’ with her. That made me shudder.

“Wasn’t me. I got the short end of the stick from another’s efforts to royally piss off the whole teacher’s lounge.” It was for the best that I exclude the finer detail on how that was done.

“Clint? Clint Jeter?” Lifting my head higher, I peeked from one slitted eyelid at a nurse -- possibly in her early thirties -- opening a side door.

“Okay, sport, time to get checked and then checked out of here.” With that statement made, Mike gave me a hand to get up and go on back to the exam room.

Not paying too much attention to what I was doing, I walked into the nurse’s rear end. “Sorry,” was my immediate apology, but I added another, “Sorry,” when a certain something shoved me forward. I grabbed the nurse in a bad way and nearly hiked up her bell bottom dress. I took my hands off of her hips. I could feel myself standing painfully at attention and self-aware of how tender I was from merely knocking myself into her personal space.

Back down and over her legs, she pulled the skirt of her dress snug around her creamy thighs. I couldn’t help noticing at the same time that the lower half of her pretty face had a limp wrist to cover her smirking, while she was holding a clipboard. That’s why I took a few steps away from her -- I figured she must have felt my member giving her salutations -- before I noticed her attempted restraint on laughter. I didn’t have to wonder as I thought, ’She must have felt it.’ I lowered my head and blushed furiously from this humiliation.

The brunette nurse gestured -- with a grin and nod -- to the upright scale between the check-out counter and a hall counter with a sink. Lowering her hand, she instructed and mentioned, “Remove your shoes and hop up. And, by the way, I’m flattered.” That was not something I expected to hear from a professional nurse. I dropped down quickly to hide my glowing red face and took off my shoes.

Up on the scale, with a weighted clunk of the meter’s sliding indicator, I listened to the rattling noises the nurse made with her tapping to center-balance the offset accurately. Since my accidental trip and grab, she’d been very close. Lavender. I could smell the floral scent coming off of her as our shoulders brushed. With a single half-opened eye, I glanced to my side at her leaning in so close to me as she obtained my measurements.

How she hid her smile left me with a demure impression, but her gaze was telling me otherwise. “Your girlfriend probably can’t wait for you to get better. Or are you taking advantage of her love and care?” I felt a rush of emotions from what she said. Memories of Erin and what we used to do together had flooded my mind.

Sobered, I shook my head. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Boyfriend?” I lifted my eyelid a little more to stare at her. That had taken me by surprise.

“Because I don’t have a girlfriend, you’re accusing me of being gay?” What was with women today?

“I’m sorry, I assumed -- You don’t normally see young men taking great care of their skin unless -- Sorry.” With a sigh, she indicated I could step off the scale and collect my shoes before going to the exam room. After walking in to find a seat, she gave me a, “Hope you will forgive me, but I’ll find you another nurse.” A little smile was on her lips when she stated, “You are a cutie.” The door shut after a wave from her, and I had a moment to myself to shut my eyes to go over what had just happened out there.

That had felt awkward. Per usual I talked to myself, saying, “I just got hit on by the nurse and I blew it.” Only I wasn’t by myself.

I’d sat down on on the end of a white paper-covered and reclined patient’s table when I heard the crinkle of paper behind me. One glance over my shoulder and I saw the impression of it sitting with me. It wasn’t trying anything more than keeping me company, but that still gave me mixed feelings.

I whispered as low as I could, “Can’t you talk?” Waiting a few seconds, I tried asking, “Why the Hell won’t you leave me alone?”

In response, I felt the burning sensation of its palms cupping my ears. The whistling noise was acute now and caused me to wince. A cool sensation passed when those unseen hands pulled from me.

Still trying to be quiet, I asked, “What was that about?” It didn’t do anything more than sit this time. Thinking about what it had done to my ears in response to my earlier question, I guessed: “You do understand me.” At least I thought so. Second-guessing, I said: “Maybe not… If you wanted me to shut up, you would have covered my mouth, not my ears.”

I remained slumped and quiet until I heard a knock at the door.

The door had opened with a face appearing before the rest of another nurse. “Hi. Clint Jeter? I’m Shar. Going to check you up before Doctor Shrewsberry comes in.”

Shrewsberry was a new doctor. My old one lost his licence since all he ever did was throw prescriptions at people for them to rest and recover, pass the patient off to the hospital when it was something serious, and never once would tell -- at least me -- what I had going on that made me unwell. I’d have to figure out that most of my health troubles were caused by something stupid I’d done. Like last Summer, using wasp killer on a nest and removing its dead colony by hand. I had gloves on, but didn’t wash my hands after removing them because I thought the gloves were good enough. Then I ate and got sick...

Closing the door behind her, she immediately got moving, collecting what all she required to record my condition. “Open.” One peek and I saw a digital thermometer poised by my lips. I obeyed and took it.

After I heard the beep, Shar pulled out and inspected the thermometer. After a second, Shar removed the sleeve and replaced it with another. The thermometer came back.

“Sorry, let’s try that again. It glitched.” Popping my mouth open and around it once more, I held it. Again, the beeping went off and she took it out for another look. “I’m sorry,” she said with a smile and lightly waved the thermometer between her pinched fingers; “I’m not sure what’s wrong with it, but I’ll get something better. Be right back.” Taking the thermometer with her, she left.

I sat silently with my eyes closed again until Shar’s return. I peeked.

Held in her hand was a device that looked like an otoscope for checking ears. She removed it from a platform and gave it a sleeve around the funneled tip before poking it in my ear. A very quick second later, she took it away for an inspection of the readout. “There we go. Low-grade fever. Much better.”

“Better?”

“Not something you want to experience. You’ve heard of the boiling point?” I very gently nodded as Cooking was a class I was taking. “Okay, that would be an insanely high fever. You’d die long before you got to that point, in reality. If you saw the impossible readings I was getting, you’d have an idea why I switched thermometers.” I gave the occupied air behind me a one-eyed glance in confirmed wonder. ’Pretty sure that was courtesy of my grabby spirit of debauchery here messing around.’ I didn’t have a face to picture it with, but I could imagine the grin it might be giving me.

Shar grabbed another item to wrap around my arm to take my blood pressure while she pressed my wrist with the stethoscope to hear my pulse. Old fashioned. She manually pumped the cuff up tightly as I waited. After that, I caught her removing those stethoscope earbuds and facing me with a smile.

“Let me grab my clipboard and we can get this interview started.” A click of a pen later, “How are you today?”

I went over how I felt. “Been sick all morning. Couldn’t open my eyes for awhile, still difficult. Before that, though, had a ringing in my ear on the way to school. Been dizzy. Didn’t get much sleep.” Too many questions would be brought up if I mentioned my burns.

As she scribbled away, she open-endedly asked, “Any nausea or coughing, sneezing...? Any allergies I should know about?”

“Not really. I mean… I coughed when I inhaled ash?” She stopped writing and looked at me. “Could I be allergic to that?”

With a shake of her head, she asked, “Were you hanging around the plant?” Immediately, I shook my head. “Good. You don’t want to.” She curled a finger up rapidly as she stared down at her hand with a look like she was deep in thought. “Okay, open up. I want to see something.” From the items she collected, one was a standing flashlight in the same shape as the otoscope-like thermometer. I opened up and she shined the light in. “Would you mind telling me where you were to ingest this much ash?”

Closing my mouth up, I answered, “Not really. A lot happened yesterday that wound up with me calling the police. I guess you could say it was a fire. A big one.”

“I would believe it was big. The back of your throat has drainage and its coated black. I can already tell you what is wrong with you. A sinus infection. A really bad one.” She pursed her lips and added, “But, I’m not the doctor and I’ll leave it up to him to decide. I won’t mention this, but please tell him what you told me. I don’t want -- You will find out soon enough that he’s a real talker.”

“Okay.” I kind of liked Shar a bit more than the other nurse. She was more down to business and had her head on straight. Not as pretty, but someone I could be comfortable talking with. Then again, maybe she was trained to behave that way in social interactions.

“He’ll be back in a moment. Hope you get better.” I gave her a wave goodbye as she left and closed the door behind her.

Warm fingers brushed by my lips. I questioned it: “What?” It tapped at the corner of my mouth. “What do you want?” More tapping. I decided to close my eyelid and remain silent until the doctor could come. Whatever my haunter wanted, it wasn’t getting that until I got some kind of answer in return.

Eventually, the tapping stopped. A second later, there came another knock at the door before it opened.

“Hi. I’m Doctor Shrewsberry.” I peeked to see his hand reach out in offer. We shook hands as he commented, “Nice to finally meet you. Been wondering when you would be catching something.”

“Sorry. I try.”

Dropping the shake, he nodded. “That is good and bad. You’re more susceptible to greater illness from more common bugs without your immunity getting the experience it requires.”

I knew what he was talking about, but that was why I tried boosting that up with vitamins. “Vitamins helped.”

“Not always. They give you a supplementary vigor. That logic would work if only consuming the right foods and drinks was enough for good health. Regular exercise, sleep, and a supportive emotional environment are a few major musts for that to work.” He indicated a finger to the side of his temple, “Doctor for a reason. Pays to know. If you want to know a funny story, I could tell you of an Olympian athlete who invested in a full closet of vitamins. When he was interviewed by the press, he was questioned about the whole collection. His answer was quite the shocker, ‘I have a record for the most expensive piss in the world.’ Now that was a headline rejection there.” He gave himself a pat on the shoulder. “I’d give you a few tips to get into shape, but I’m a little out of the loop now too. What kind of role-model would I be?” He kept talking. “If I would recommend anything, I’d say you need some good carbs and a scheduled jog every morning. Just to start off.”

I took a peek down at myself and slowly stated, “I’m not out of shape.”

“You’re not in good shape. There is a difference between not bad and good. Passive aggressive, that’s an emotional condition most people are in, nowadays. That’s what you are. Not bad, but not yet good. Brewing a stew in you until something awful tips you over.” The doc pointed at me and stated, “Now you’re in that chair waiting for me to give my diagnosis of what ails you.”

Frowning at him, I wasn’t liking my doctor very much. Just as he made me feel less comfortable being here, I was adjusting to find some comfort sitting too. A dull ache was screwing with my back.

Peeking up at him, I caught his eyebrow quirking up before he asked, “Having trouble?”

“Back. Just kinda started,” was my response.

“That’s to be expected. Lack of rest will prevent those muscles from recovering from the activities of everyday life. Imagine being a car, waking up instantly, backing out of the driveway, and gradually running at top speed, twisting and turning, every corner is a race to get in front of the other vehicle, and immediately halting before a flash of red light. When it turns green, you do it all over again until whatever is driving you gets satisfied with where you are at.” He smirked, “Just like that, you are in my shop for an inspection.”

I was thinking, ’This guy needs to be told to shut the fuck up.’ My lips had parted, ready to say what needed to be said, but in a more respectful tone than what I had thought --

-- Until the corner of my mouth was tapped by a wave of heat once more. It wanted me to shut up!? I groaned as I thought, ’Does this thing understand me or not?’ I was very tempted to tell him he was a windbag, but I kinda came here for a reason and needed him on my side if I wanted to get better. Keeping my mouth shut was for the best. It wouldn’t provoke him, and I could listen to him formulate how to better myself, even if most of what was said got on my nerves.

“Another reason your muscles are aching could be growth pains. Have you been working out recently?” I had already established that I wasn’t out of shape… He must have suffered from what my dad liked to call selective hearing.

But I did undergo a journey through some kind of Hell. I wasn’t going to tell him that, so I kept my mouth shut.

Unperturbed by my silence, he moved on. “Let’s take a peek inside that ear canal, shall we.” I barely jumped when the cool tip of the funnel poked into my ear. He laughed and jokingly requested, “Hold still now.” After a few seconds looking in one ear and then the other, he spoke. “You have some acute inner ear infection going on. It’s irritated like crazy. Headaches?”

“Not much. More dizzy than anything,” was my soft spoken response. Now that he’d made me aware of my headache, I corrected myself. “Actually, my jaw hurts.” He returned to look in both of my ears again. His finger was beneath my right ear. A lightly applied touch of his fingertip ran down the side of my neck to curl beneath my jaw and dive down the front of my throat. “That does --”

“Have you been close to any bonfires or a pyre? Not a Burning Man fan, are you?” The doctor turned to poke in my ear with that instrument and then he left my head alone.

“Kinda.” I corrected myself, “Don’t know what Burning Man is, but I’ve -- Sort of a fire.” I raised a finger to my jaw and asked, “What were you feeling for?”

“I will have to prescribe drops for your ears. If this continues, you might rupture your eardrums and need tubing.” That didn’t answer my question and I was about to ask again, but the burning tip of a finger poked my cheek. Again, I shut up. “Going to check your schnoz next. Lean back your head for me, please.”

He was quiet as my nose took an intrusive inspection.

“Alright. Going to need you to gawk in amazement at the shiny light for me. Open wide for me -- Thank you.” My mouth open, he lapsed into silence again.

One tap of flat wood on my lip gave me the indicator that I could shut my trap.

“Okay, I promise this will be the last time being in the spotlight. I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” This part I wasn’t going to be enjoying very much at all.

Upon opening my eyes, I saw Doctor Shrewsberry jerk his face away from me. He was blinking rapidly, but he returned to face me again. He shone a light at me and nearly blinded one eye before going to repeat the same onto the other.

“Please follow the light for me.” Back and forth, I shifted my gaze to trail after the tiny spot of light shining in my eyes. Then he flipped off the light. “Very severe sinus infection. You can get a prescription for that, but you also have burns inside and out.” He sighed as he continued, “I’m not really sure if it is my place to ask you what happened, but I’d like to know if it was a fire. You weren’t being very direct about it. If this was caused by a chemical, I need to know.”

It was fire, but a flame unlike anything that this world had ever experienced before.

I very carefully shook my head and told him as much truth as I knew. “I don’t know. It was a fire, but I didn’t know what created it. Could have started normal or from a bad interaction with chemicals. I wasn’t there when it started.”

“Alright. What I’ll do is add a prescription cream for your ears that won’t react with the infection. Your skin doesn’t appear dried and chapped like it would from normal burns. That was why I needed to know what caused this. A moisturized cream might have an unwanted reaction on you if this was an allergic response, just for example.”

Skipping his lesson, I was more confused about just getting treatment for my ears and I made that clear to him. “Why just my ears and not the rest of my face?”

He grinned at me and explained with a joke, “The exterior of your ears are swollen. Right now, you look like you’ve a bit of Elf in you. Your face is fine. Flushed with fever, but okay. Not dry one bit. In fact, your skin has responded by excreting sebum.”

It took me a moment to figure that out. “I’m sweating?”

“Sebum. Different from sweat. Sweat is meant to cool you off. It’s a watery fluid. Sebum, on the other hand, is meant to moisturize you, like lube. It’s an oily substance that coats your epidermis.” He pointed out, “Most of it comes from particular points on the body. If it isn’t washed, it becomes waxy and creates body odor. Collection of dirt, dead skin, and all that gets in the skin’s pores. If you don’t want acne, you better wash up and keep clean. In your case, it’s excessive. Also, it can cause pattern hair loss--”

“I get it.” Again and again, I felt the digit prod at my mouth like a hot poker. To both of them, I restated, “I get it.” No more was to come out of me unless I was asked to speak. I just wanted to get out of here now and as far away from this chatter-bug as possible, sooner rather than later, or I’d go nuts!

“Do you watch early morning infomercials? Thought I might ask since you mentioned supplementary vitamins.” I wasn’t saying a word. “There was a funny episode. It emphasized that whatever goes into the body will come out one way or another. Either you and I will burn that off as fuel, purge it as waste, or -- here’s the best part, excrete it as sweat. Sweat is basically urea. Which means you and I really are what we eat.” The doctor kept going and going, “You know, a lot of people out there have varied tastes and, depending on their tastes, you might trigger their mouths to water or for that diaphragm to cause them to retch.” Then I heard him let out a conclusively satisfying sigh. “That brings us to hygiene. No brutish colognes or fragranced deodorant. Keep clean and you’ll be yourself.” Without me prompting him, there was an awkward silence after his long-winded lecture. “Ahem, okay. One more thing is your eyes. When you change contacts, just add a few drops and that should clear things up.”

I blinked, “Contacts?” This time, I felt my cheek get heatedly pinched. I winced and instinctively responded with, “Sorry.”

Like I was apologizing to him, he shrugged and replied with, “No problem. Just before bed or sometime like that. Dust, or in this case, ash can get caught under the lenses and become irritable as it is now.” I just listened to him, but I wanted to tell him badly that I didn’t wear contacts. What was giving him the impression that I did? “On top of everything, I would like you to regularly drink plenty of water. It will help you recover from dehydration.” I didn’t feel thirsty, but I kept quiet. “Any questions?”

“Will there be a follow up appointment?”

“I would recommend one in a few days. An infection this bad will need to be monitored if it gets better or worse. Better, we drop the drops. Worse, then we go into tubing as an option.” I cringed and shivered at the thought of having tubes put in my ears. “It’s not so bad. You won’t even notice they are there.” Closing my eyelids, I pictured the doctor shoving plastic cylinders into my ear canals and snipping the end so he could poke a q-tip to fit the piece in.

“I’d rather --” My lips were pinched shut by a pair of burning fingers. Pursing my lips tightly, I kept my mouth shut for good this time. To Doctor Shrewsberry, I gently shook my head and, again, remained perfectly silent.

“I’ll have everything set up at the counter for your father to pick up.” Blindly, I lifted a hand to lazily wave him goodbye as I heard him open the door, but paused…

“That’s not my dad out there.” He stopped at the door to look over at me. Then smiled.

“Oh, heh, yeah, I’ve heard that before. Stepfathers can take some getting used to.” He shrugged and was about to turn away again.

“He’s not.” He looked at me again, lost the smile, and had this expression like I should be explaining myself. “He’s an officer who’s keeping an eye on me.” Just then, the back of my hair was yanked harshly. “Ow!” I rubbed the back of my head and kept my mouth shut.

His face lit up as if he had realized something. “That explains the fire. Okay, no need to tell me anymore. Have a good day and play safe!”

I stared at the door as he shut it behind himself softly, but quickly. “Did… Does he think I’m a pyromaniac? An arsonist?” After a moment to think about it, he did sound like he had a problem with people messing with fire. “What the Hell is Burning Man anyways?” Gently, I shook my head and said, “Fuck it. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m not coming back to see him.”

Sighing, I rested my face in my hands and sat on the patient’s table in silence for a really long time. After that while, my head cleared and I began to think about some things I wanted clarity on. Especially on this pest that keeps bugging me.

“Can you understand me or not? Just poke me once for yes and twice for no… Uh, not in the face or anywhere weird.” I waited for a response, but nothing happened. I slumped and sighed. “Figures.”

It may not have done what I requested, but when I had leaned over, it leaned too onto my back. Those warm arms came around my neck and shoulders to embrace me from behind. That was all it did until the nurse returned to give me the go ahead on checking out. “All good to go.”

“Thanks,” I said as I slipped off of the table to stand. I was still held, which reminded me of the piggyback ride I’d given it in the other world. Peeking through half-opened eyelids, I walked out.

At the checkout counter, I went to collect the paperwork, but…

“We handed them over to your officer.” I stood there in silence. Then turned to face the door leading out to the waiting room.

I guessed they figured I’d missed school or bailed out, when I considered the time.

Out in the waiting room, I waved at Mike as he stood up to wait for me to join him. He first asked, “All good to go?”

A curt, “Yeah,” was all I said. I didn’t want to talk too much if my invisible rider decided to start poking me again. “Did they give you everything? Prescriptions, instructions, and a school excuse for today?” With a bit of hope, I said, “Maybe tomorrow too?”

“Right here… Hold on.” He dug for his wallet and removed a thick wad of neatly folded paper from the sleeve. Then Mike added, “Anything else we need to pick up?” He waved the light-blue tinted notes for me to see. “Drop off. What pharmacy?” I paused, not sure at all about that. He shook his head, “It wasn’t listed on here.”

Turning around, I went to the receptionist’s counter. “Excuse me, but where are you calling in for me to pick up my prescriptions?”

The lady behind the counter rolled her seat back and spoke with the checkout out of my earshot. When she rolled back, she spoke up for me to hear, “We’re sorry. Walgreens was the last listed designated location for us to call in the prescriptions. Has that recently changed?”

“No. We’ll drop by there and make sure. Thank you.” I turned back around to Mike. “We can go.”

A smile on his face, he went over the short list of stops: “Walgreens first, out to eat, and we can drop by the pharmacy again to pick up the prescriptions. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Checked out, Mike and I left…