“Mrs. Daniel!” The nurse for Dr. Faruque is calling my name to the back of the office. Chico is two steps behind me and I am grateful. I know that everything is not right with me. However, I am scared as hell. The last time I was in a doctor’s office I ended up in the “Doom Room”. I can’t even try to imagine that this would happen again or if the doctor’s here will have a legal obligation to send me back to Florida. Either way, Chico has overly assured me that not only was it ok for me to leave the house, but it was ok to see this doctor. Karla made the appointment and she is actually a patient of Dr. Faruque. This somewhat eases my mind, but I am still seriously overwhelmed.
Dr. Faruque is Indian, red dot. Very handsome and from I can tell extremely knowledgeable. I allow Chico to explain to Dr. Faruque what has happened. It seems like I have lost the will to speak for myself. In fact, I don’t want to say shit to anyone that I don’t know. Chico is doing a great job of representing me, so I am not worried about that. I am just worried about the reaction that will come after the explanation has been given. I have already changed into the paper gown that they provide. Again, I am exposed to someone that I don’t know and trust. Dr. Faruque is kind and gentle and I am assuming that he can sense that I am not “normal” at this point. I am sure that Karla provided a full summary of what happened to me in the “Doom Room” and Dr. Faruque is up to speed on what happened.
“Ok Jacinta, I am going to examine you. Is it ok if I do so?” I can’t open my mouth to say yes or no. I look at Chico with worried eyes and he shakes his head yes. I shake my head yes and Dr. Faruque starts his exam. “These little red bumps are a rash of some sort. When did this start?” Again, Chico has to step up to the plate and explain the rash. I start to cry silently again. Dr. Faruque is empathetic. “It is unfortunate what happened to you. I understand your pain and anguish. I am here to help you. I believe that you were allergic to something from the mat. It could be the material or the cleaning solution that they used on the mat.” I am thinking it is the filth that was on the mat or some other shitty substance, but at least he is down playing the rash. “I will prescribe some prednisone and once finished with this medicine, the red bumps should subside.” He continues to examine me from head to toe. Asking me questions along the way, Chico continues to answer for me. Finally, Dr. Faruque needs to hear from me directly. “Jacinta, is there anything else that I need to know about your health? I will need for you to speak for yourself now. I understand that you have been traumatized, but your husband was not there with you. Is there anything else that I need to be concerned about?” I think about this question and I can’t come up with anything. It is as if my mind has gone blank. I speak up for the first time since I’ve been here. “No, I can’t think of anything else. I know that I need to follow up on the test results that I received when I was in Tampa before the psyche ward. They found some nodules that they were concerned about. What do I need to do next?”
Dr. Faruque is thorough. I leave his office with a list of specialists that her personally called while we were still in the exam room. I get to see all three this week. He also gives me a prescription for Ambien, Xanax, Prozac, and Propranolol. This medicine should help me until I meet with a Psychiatrist who can properly diagnose my condition and prescribe the appropriate psyche meds. I guess I am on my way to recovery.
We are in the car on our way back home and my phone is starting to ring again. I have been avoiding this thing like the plaque. My nerves are already bad. I don’t need anything or anyone in particular taking them a notch up. I look at the screen to see who is calling. “Babe, if you want, I will take the phone calls so you don’t have to worry about them.” Chico is too nice and too considerate. I don’t know what I did to deserve him. I am good on giving him the phone. I just think that this is going to raise a ton of suspicion. At the same time, I can’t even think for myself or pretend to know what to do.
The screen says “Daddy” and I decide to answer it myself. I haven’t really had a real conversation with Daddy about all that has happened. I prepare myself for anything. “Hey Daddy”. Again defense mechanism is on high. I don’t know what I will get when I hear from him. It could be the nicest call or the worst lecture of all time. Either way, I am not ready for any foolishness or questions. “Hey BB (this is his pet name for me). We got a situation. Where are you?” I panic. It is the middle of the week. I am supposed to be in Tampa and really back to work. “I’m in Atlanta Daddy. I am leaving a doctor’s appointment. We decided to see a specialist here in Atlanta.” I am surprised at myself on this response. That ain’t nothing but God. “Good! Jordan is sick and they have rushed her to Grady. I am not in Atlanta yet, I need for you to go to the hospital to check on your sister.” You have got to be jiving. I ain’t trying to step foot outside my door better yet a HOSPITAL. I am good on that. I haven’t spoken to Daddy about my situation, so I don’t think he is going to understand why I am apprehensive about going there. “Daddy, I am not in a condition to go and see about Jordan. What’s wrong with her?” Of course this answer is not acceptable to Joseph Jones. “Does it matter what is wrong with her? She needs us. How quickly can you get to Grady?”