Black Bird Fly

I sat in the waiting room, flipping through some random medical magazine trying to find something interesting; no luck. My mom sat next to talking to Charlie on the phone, I tried to make it out the best I could.

"Charlie, I am at the hospital right now with my daughter. No, it is nothing serious, so don't worry about it. Yes, I’ll be back around 4. Okay, bye."

"You’re not supposed to have phones on in here." I pointed to a sign that said 'Please Turn Off All Cellular Devices' and had a cell phone crossed out.

"It was an important call,"

"Sometimes I feel like the parent." I sighed and went back to the magazine.

"Miss. Sommers, the doctor will see you now." A nurse called out from the doorway; both me and my mom got up and followed her.

I've always hated hospitals, well since I was 10 at least. Witnessing all the horrible things in the emergency room and realizing that someone is on their death bed as we are walking, healthy, in a way at least. Plus the smell made my stomach turn. I never knew how to explain a hospital smell; I guess it smelt like the dead and brand new at the same time.

We walked into a white room with pictures on the walls of paintings, some were bright and colorful, some were portraits, and some looked like they truly belonged in a hospital where people died everyone second. In this room was also a bed, it really wasn't a bed, it was a hard mattress supported by thousands of pounds of metal that everyone has sat on at some point in time. There was a light hanging above the bed and a curtain that circled half the room.

My gaze finally landed on a doctor who was standing by the counter tops. He looked to young to be a doctor but too old to be a student. He looked up from some clipboard and smiled at us.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Cullen." He said, his voice was smooth, velvet had nothing on it.

"I'm Samantha Sommers and this is my daughter, Riley." She smiled back at him, he was mom's exact type.

"So, I hear that are looking for a new doctor for yourself." He turned his attention to me.

"Yeah, I wanted to get someone closer to home and one of my mom's friends from work said that you were a really good doctor. He said, probably the best Forks has seen in a long time." I beamed.

"I don't know about all that," His laugh could break and angel's heart. "But I could try and help you the best I can." He walked over to me and asked me to sit down as he got the stethoscope from around his neck. "Breathe in and out, just normally. Right now I am just doing a normal check-up so I can get more recent vitals than the ones your other doctor sent. After that we'll talk about why you're here more." I already liked this doctor more. He explained what he was doing and he had a calm and collective personality around him. Like nothing could set him off.

By the time we had gotten done with the check-up my mom had left the room and Dr. Cullen had gotten called away two times for emergencies, every time saying sorry when he got back even though I told him it was perfectly fine.

"Okay," He smiled sitting down in his chair and looking over at me. "Why don't we start at when you first found out about this."

We both sat in the office, the doctor across the room from us never looking up from his clipboard as he rushed to write things down. I squirmed uncomfortably, my hands were still shaking.

“We are going to test you for some things I think you have,” He finally said from his chair, “We’ll need some blood though.”

“So I am just going to be your guinea pig until you find out what’s wrong with me?” I asked rudely; blood made me feel awkward, especially if it was my own.

“I’m sorry Dr. Finnley, I don’t know what’s wrong with her right now. She’s been acting like this for a while.”

“It’s okay; I have had worse some older people than her when I mention ‘blood’.” He chuckled.

I imagine why.

I yawned loudly as he left the room and laid down on my back.

“Why did you say that?”

“Because he is, he doesn’t know what I have so he’s going draw blood and see what he can come up with.” My tiny voice echoed through the tiny room; I though I had a good point.

“He is just trying to help you.”

“I know,” I sighed, defeat of this argument was coming. “He’s supposed to know what’s wrong with me though, he’s a doctor for freak’s sake.”

“He just wants to make sure. Doctor’s also want to make sure what they say is true so they don’t give them the wrong thing. What can help one person can kill another.”

I sighed, why did she always have to be right?

A few minutes later a lady walked into the room with tubes and syringes. I shuttered as she walked by me, that seems to happen when people who are evil walk by, well, evil to me at least.

“You must be Riley, you are such a doll!” She squealed.

I looked at her like she was crazy before looking at my mom who was trying not to laugh. I’m 10, why does everyone refer to me as being 2.

“Here, give me your arm dolly.” She grabbed my arm and started to clean where she was going to stab me.

I yanked my arm away and went over to my mom, burying my face in her neck.

“She has a thing for needles.”

“Am I’m sorry dolly, I didn’t know.” Her voice sounded like she just killed a poor, defenseless animal.

How would she know anyway, nobody told her.

“Well, this is for your best interest so me and all the other nurses and doctor’s will understand what is wrong.”

“Nothings wrong, I am all better.” I beamed trying to make her go away; she was like a walking, talking nightmare.

“Don’t try to be brave; it’s just me and your mommy in the room.” She grabbed my arm up again and cleaned wear she was going to stab me again.

She stabbed me in the arm about five times; each one I cringed as she pulled the much needed blood out of my system.

“We’ll know what it is exactly in a couple days, for now why don’t you keep her home from school and such.” The doctor said as he re-emerged into the room.

“Thank you again for all your patience with my daughter.” My mom smiled lightly and we were off to go home.

“A few days later my mom got a call from the hospital saying I had ALS. She collapsed on the floor; she wouldn’t talk to me for a day. She just sat in her room. I don’t really blame her. I mean it’s not everyday that you find out your daughter has, if she’s lucky, ten years to live. After that everything just led up to this point, appointments, and people trying to figure how to save my life. Nothing ever came up and the more dead ends showed the more my mom got protective. It wasn’t until a year ago she kind of let me go in a since. She finally realized I was a 10 year old little girl who needed her mommy to hold her hand to cross the street. I am 16 and mature for most people my age. She let me do things finally.”

I finally got done; remembering just brought back a lot of memories, some good and some bad. But all still memories.