The Doctor's Office

The crowded waiting room offered little in the way of space for his persistent pacing. But Robert managed to find a route that twisted though the impatient masses of patients. It was his third visit in as many days and still the doctors and specialists could not give him an exact reason for his ailments.

The waiting was the part that tore at him. The pain in his joints, the confusion and memory loss, even his hair falling out was all somewhat manageable compared to the waiting, wondering, worrying and the absence of answers.

Something had been constantly tormenting him for the last year or so. It varied, a shoulder pull, a knee strain, or a knotted stomach, something was always wrong or ached without a reason for being there. The frailty of his mind and body plagued him on a daily basis.

Betty, his wife of twenty years, had finally pressured him into going to the clinic. He reluctantly had gone, but not for himself. He went for his wife. Her symptoms were very similar to his own, although she hid them a lot better than he did, and he was there under the assumption that whatever diagnosis he was given, the same would hold true for her.

Fear had slowly tightened its grip on him. More and more it was being reported on the evening news and in magazines that a "silent killer" disease was now an epidemic and was sweeping over the globe. Even here, at the source of hope, the coffee tables were littered with articles about the symptoms of the disease and suggested methods to limit its spread.

The Arvins, whom they had been next door neighbors with for fifteen years, were in a situation like this as well. After months of tests, they had been told to stop activities that had been part of their lives for as long as they had known them. It was almost like the Arvins had been quietly quarantined, put away in their house and told not to go out and play softball, jogging or engage in the weekend partying that they always had done in the past.

The instructions given to the Arvins was the only treatment available for the "silent killer". The disease was slow to manifest itself, but its effects increased as time went by. The Arvins were told they only had 25 years left before the disease would claim them. There was nothing to be done to cure it.

"Maybe it was just the flu," he tried to rationalize it,"or a simple cancer that would be cured to with a single injection."

The torment of the unknown showed on his face. The "silent killer" was thought to be spreading, primarily to people of his generation, by touch. Large group gatherings, conventions, family reunions, sporting events, once the normal things for people to attend, had been banned by the health organizations in order to try to curb the spread of the epidemic. Even waiting rooms, like this one, were heavily frowned upon. Robert looked around the large room in a panic.

"What if he had it, and he was spreading it right now?" he thought.

He quickly put his hands in his jacket pockets and continued pacing. The three hours he had been here seemed like a lifetime at this point. When were they going to call his name!?

"What if he just had the flu and his mere presence in this room full of sick people was enough for him to contract the dreaded disease?" his mind raced,"Some reports said that it had become airborne in China and India."

Robert tried to hold his breath as much as he could, while his now sweating hands twitched in his pockets. He realized that he could not hold his breath nearly as long as he used to.

"Is that a symptom, too?"

He had it. He knew he did. The signs were all there. His bones ached with this knowledge and with his resignation at carrying the illness, the same pain he would get in his joints when the weather began to change.

"I need a mask, one of those cloth ones that keeps you from breathing germs on other people," he mumbled, as he got in line at the check-in desk. "They have to have some."

"Robert Jacobs," called a nurse from a doorway. "Robert Jacobs."

"Here!" Robert almost screamed to her. He hustled as fast as his sore hips would carry him after her down a long hallway to an examination room.

"Have a seat on the table and a doctor will be with you shortly," she directed as he entered the tiny room. The portly nurse made considerable effort to not get within five feet of Robert, and never came into the exam room herself.

Robert nodded at her, as she shut the door behind him, then with some effort, climbed his way up and onto the paper wrapped reclined exam table.

Another hour passed and Robert's mind lept from worry directly into paranoia. A knock on the door, broke his concentration and ramblings about his condition. A gray haired man wearing a white lab coat, white face mask, and purple latex gloves entered the room without waiting for Robert to respond to the knock.

"Good morning," greeting the doctor.

"Afternoon." responded Robert.

"Ah..so it is," chuckled the man as he checked his watch. "Sorry about the wait."

Robert was asked to lay back on the paper and the doctor gave him a quick exam, his fifth one this week. After a few minutes of poking and prodding, the doctor had Robert sit up on the table.

The doctor took a seat on a swivel stool and opened a file full of papers and charts.

"So be blunt and straight with me doctor," Robert asked," what's wrong with me."

The doctor looked hard at his patient, directly into Robert's eyes.

"You have it. And there is nothing we can do to stop it."

Robert's jaw went slack, and his face turned pure white.

The bearer of ill news continued," but there are things you can do to mitigate its effects, and to make your time left more comfortable."

"Such as?" Robert asked with much effort.

"Well, no heavy lifting from now on. Take any stairs very carefully and slowly. Have someone else do any driving for you. Definitely no strenuous activities."

"What will the effect be as time passes?"

"It will take your mind and body," the doctor said, being as honest as he could," you will begin to forget things and people, you will move much slower and every part of you will ache."

Robert was near tears, and seeing his reaction the doctor tried to change the topic.

"You still have time to get your affairs in order before you lose all reason," the doctor continued. You are not alone in this. Millions of people like you have this disease, the OA plague."

Robert took a face mask and latex gloves the doctor offered as he left the clinic.

"Hardest part of this," thought Robert as he slowly drove home," I have to tell Betty she has it, too."