The Appointment
Chapter 3 | Remembrance: A Re-Writing
Welcome to Remembrance!
I’m thrilled to have you here. This is the third chapter in my serialized novel. If you’re new ‘round these parts, you can check out the Table of Contents here. The first five chapters of this novel are free to read; to read the rest, upgrade to a paid subscription for the cost of an ebook:
Previously, Leah’s anxiety grew as she tried to make sense of the cryptic comments she overheard during her phone conversation with the clinic.
In this chapter, Leah is confronted about her unfriendly behavior and attends her rescheduled neurology appointment.
“Leah, did you find a pen in the taco bag when I brought your lunch over? I can’t find it and am really hoping I didn’t lose it. It was a gift from Connor.”
Leah froze.
“Leah? Are you okay? Did you hear me?”
Leah hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of decision. How much did she really trust Sarah, when it came down to it? Mechanically, without actively making the choice, she walked to the door and retrieved the pen from the mailbox.
Trust it is.
Trust felt like the right choice, but the fear still clawed at her throat as she walked back to the living room.
It’s not about Sarah. Sarah is not the problem. Sarah is a trusted friend.
The affirmations didn’t feel like much, but they were a start, at least. Leah handed the pen back to Sarah wordlessly as she sat back down.
“How did it end up on your patio? I wrote that note in my car!”
“You’re going to laugh at me,” Leah said sheepishly. “I hid it in the mailbox because I was afraid you were bugging me.”
Sarah burst out laughing, a laugh that broke the tension in the room and acted as a balm to Leah’s tired heart.
“A bug? Like, a spy gadget or something?”
A grin spread across Leah’s face and she nodded. “Like a spy gadget or something.”
“Leah, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day! What in the world gave you that idea?”
“The fact that you knew I’d rescheduled my neurologist appointment, even though I hadn’t told you about it.”
Sarah’s face was confused now. “Your appointment? I got an email about it.” She paused for a moment, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. “Leah, you shared your online calendar with me months ago. Remember that week that Connor needed to use our car every day so you and I carpooled all week? We shared calendars to make sure we could both get to all our meetings on time…”
Now Leah was the one laughing. Even as Sarah spoke, the memories came tumbling back. How odd that she’d forgotten that week; it had been such a delight and the real foundation of their friendship.
“You thought I was bugging your apartment and you thought I’d be so obvious as to use a fake pen in a bag that shouldn’t contain a pen? Honestly, I’m a little offended! I’d be more subtle than that. Also, you didn’t think to take the dang thing apart and check whether it had a bug in it?”
Leah averted her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush. “No. I didn’t think of that.”
“Well, just to ease your mind, go ahead and take it apart. I’m going to give Connor a call and see when he’ll be home. Is it okay if he stops by? You seem like you need some real human contact today.”
“That would be wonderful. I’ve been… really in my head.” Leah was still looking away from Sarah, both out of embarrassment and because she was focusing on disassembling the pen carefully enough to put it back together when she was finished.
“I can tell,” Sarah said again. It stung less this time.
-
On Tuesday afternoon, Leah walked into the McNeill Institute ten minutes before her appointment. Her nerves were worn raw from a weekend of intense anxiety, paranoia, and compulsions—even after she and Sarah had reconciled, it had been one thing after another—and it took every ounce of willpower in her body to step over the threshold of the clinic. Her steps were stiff and her heart thumped in her chest as she approached the check-in desk.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“I need to check in for a three o’clock appointment. The last name is Harvey.”
A slight pause. Leah’s heart almost stopped. “Leonora?”
“Yes, thank you.” What does she know?
“I’ve got you checked in. You can go ahead and take a seat in the waiting area, and one of the techs will come get you in a few minutes.”
The receptionist looked back down at her computer, but looked up in confusion when Leah didn’t walk away.
“Is there anything else?”
“Um… I think I owe a fee for missing my last appointment. Can I go ahead and pay for that now?”
The receptionist paused, her brows knit. “I’m not seeing anything about a late fee. Stop back by on your way out; I’ll double-check that I’m not missing anything.”
It was everything Leah could do not to turn tail and race out of the clinic in that moment. She watched, almost at a distance, as her rational mind fought with the paranoia for control of her will.
No late fee? That has to mean something. No one would have just… paid my no-show fee for me. Something’s up.
It’s probably just a glitch in the system. You’re overreacting. You can pay it before you leave. It’s not a big deal.
But what if it still isn’t showing up in an hour? What is she going to do, reboot the entire system? As if. Why would someone have paid it for me? Why would someone have cancelled it?
This internal wrestling was still going on, like a professional ping pong match in her mind, when she was called back to the console room for her appointment. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching her, Leah stood up and followed the technician back into the bowels of the clinic. Once they’d settled into the treatment room, he unlocked the desktop computer and launched into the same set of questions she’d been asked at every session.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Harvey. My name is Peter, and I’ll be your technician today. How have your migraines been lately?”
“I haven’t had any since the last session. I did have an intense headache, but it was after my car accident, and it was just whiplash.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your car accident. I hope you’re feeling better now. Have you experienced any new or worsening side effects or unusual symptoms over the last month?”
“A lot of anxiety and paranoia,” she replied. “Although that also started after the accident and after I missed my appointment last week, so it’s hard to know if it’s related.”
“Certainly could be; I’ll make a note of it. Have you experienced any other health issues, aside from those related to your car accident, since we saw you last?”
“No sir.”
“Wonderful. I’ll get these notes sent over to the doctor while you’re hooked up to the console.” With a few more keystrokes, Leah watched the screen go blank. Peter stepped over to the orthodontic chair she was seated on, and she felt her heartrate begin to rise again.
Deep breaths. You know this is good for you. You’re safe.
The standard blood pressure check reflected Leah’s slightly-elevated pulse, but the result wasn’t high enough to scare Peter out of the treatment. He strapped the cuffs around her wrists, and for the first time in a year, Leah wondered if she would be strong enough to break free of them.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He placed the helmet on her head and reclined her chair slightly.
Falling. I’m falling. He’s going to kill me.
Calm down, Leah; he’s not going to kill you. You’ve done this a dozen times. You’re going to be okay. It will be good to know if all this is the result of the accident or if it’s withdrawal.
“Alright, Ms. Harvey, you’re all set. Feel free to close your eyes and rest, and I’ll be back in about half an hour.”
The familiar whir of the console powering on felt comfortable, and Leah began to feel the anxiety’s vice grip on her chest loosen. She let out a deep sigh, realizing as she did so how tense her shoulders had been.
But he’s a fool if he thinks I’m going to close my eyes. No funny business, sir.
Her heart slowed. Her breathing deepened. In spite of herself, she closed her eyes. It did feel nice to rest after hardly sleeping all weekend.
The next thing she knew, Peter was gently tapping her awake as he loosed the arm restraints.
“I hope you enjoyed your nap, Ms. Harvey,” he said. His tone was kind, but the smallest hint of a grin played about the corners of his mouth. “We’re all finished here, so I’ll go ahead and get you settled in the exam room and Dr. Pierucci will come and see you in just a few minutes.”
Still groggy, Leah nodded. Her mind was slowly gearing back up, threatening to return immediately to the rapid-fire thoughts driven by the anxiety of the past weekend.
How could I let my guard down that much?
As she followed Peter down another hallway and into another room, her thoughts changed, morphing from the frenetic anxiety to a skeptical, but rational, curiosity.
Why do I still feel so uneasy? Perhaps all of this is just the fallout of the wreck? Some sort of short-term physical trauma response?
Peter quietly opened her visit notes on the room’s desktop computer while Leah set down her bag and looked around. A moment later—the promptness surprised her—Dr. Pierucci entered the room. He seemed to fill it. He was not a large man, but he was a large presence.
“Ms. Harvey,” he said, smiling. Leah had never seen him smile before. “It is heartening to see you; I was glad to hear that you had rescheduled your treatment so promptly.”
Peter remained in the room, silently taking notes.
“So how are you feeling? It was unfortunate that you had to miss your previous appointment.”
“Yes, am I still eligible for the trial? When I called to reschedule my appointment, the staff member I spoke to sounded quite anxious to get me in quickly.”
“Who led you to believe that you would be removed from the program?” His voice, previously so warm, shifted subtly.
“Oh, no one, I just thought that maybe…”
“You are still expected to participate for the duration of the trail; your dropping out would be most unsatisfactory.”
Leah sighed, relieved. “Thank goodness. I’ve been so anxious the last few days, and…”
“Anxious?” Another first. Dr. Pierucci never interrupted or cut her off.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Every single little thing triggered a spiral or a panic attack.”
“You know, Ms. Harvey, perhaps your missing your appointment last week will prove beneficial after all. This is an important note for the research team. Mr. Bennett, ensure that a detailed explanation of Ms. Harvey’s symptoms is uploaded to the database. You may want to spend some additional time conversing with her about the specifics.”
“Yessir,” Peter replied without looking up from his computer.
“Well, Ms. Harvey, I noticed that you did not experience a migraine again this month, including in the days since your missed treatment and your lapse in medication. It certainly seems promising.”
“I agree. I wanted to ask you—how much longer do you expect the trials to run? Is there a set end-date you have in mind? I’m sure you mentioned it during our initial discussion, but I can’t seem to recall…”
If Leah hadn’t known better, she would have said that he seemed disturbed, almost frightened, by her question.
“Ms. Harvey, I am certain we discussed this in detail when you began the trial, but I will reiterate. We expect to see you monthly for a full two years before we will consider spacing out the treatments or weaning you off of the medication. To do so ahead of schedule would be most unwise. I trust you understand.”
“Of course,” Leah said, her tone bordering on apologetic. “I’m sorry I forgot what you’d shared in the past.”
“Apology accepted. Now, Ms. Harvey, I have quite a full schedule today and must attend to my next patient. Thank you for your presence, and I will see you next month.”
He nodded, stood, and walked out of the room. His exit left a void that felt almost tangible. Both Leah and Peter watched him depart, pausing for a moment before attempting to resume anything like conversation.
“Well, Ms. Harvey, I’m going to email you a copy of the participant survey; that’s where you can share in more detail about the anxiety and paranoia you mentioned.” He paused, anticipated her objection, and resumed, “Even if it turns out that they’re related to your car accident and not to the trial, it’s important that we note everything as it’s happening; it can be far too easy to misremember later down the road. Once your participate in the trial has concluded, you’ll have a chance to review the submission and add any additional notes. So don’t worry about editorializing too much; just share everything that’s been happening, and you can edit it later if you need to.”
“Thank you, Peter. That’s very helpful. I’ll keep an eye out for the email.”
“Excellent. That’s all I have for you today; you can pick up your printout at the front desk, and I’ve gone ahead and ordered your medication refill, so make sure you stop by the pharmacy before you leave.”
“Wonderful. I’ll make sure to do that.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, sir, I’ll just stop by to pay and pick up my notes, and then grab my medication and be on my way. I appreciate you all making time for me in the schedule today.”
“Of course, Ms. Harvey. I’m glad to hear that your migraines haven’t returned.” He opened the door as he spoke, ushering Leah back into the hallway and gesturing in the direction of the lobby. “We’ll see you next month. Stay well.”
“Thank you. You too, she replied, unable to stop the force of habit.
Stay well? Is that a weird thing for him to say? I suppose he could say it to everyone; this is a clinic for neurology patients after all…
Still lost in thought, Leah followed the hallway down its length and stepped back into the lobby. One of the staff members waved her over, and Leah approached.
“Ready to check out?”
“Yes ma’am. Leonora Harvey.”
“Oh, Ms. Harvey! Good to see you; I’m glad you were able to make it. I’m Natalie—we spoke on the phone last week.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you so much for getting me in so quickly.”
“Of course. Anything for you, dear.”
There was a pause in the conversation—only a moment, but heavy as both women tried to act like Natalie’s last comment had been left unsaid.
“Anyway, I’ll get your summary printed and you’ll be good to go.”
“Don’t I need to pay my no-show fee?”
Natalie glanced down at her screen. “No, it looks like it’s already been paid.”
“I… I didn’t pay it…”
“Do you have auto-pay set up on your account? Sometimes patients forget that they’ve enabled it and pay twice.”
Leah hesitated, not wanting to seem paranoid but feeling, in fact, quite paranoid. “That must be it,” she said eventually. “I’ll double-check my bank statement when I get home.”
“Sounds good,” Natalie replied, stepping a few feet away to gather the stack of papers that the printed had already stapled. “Here you go, Leah. We’ll see you again soon.”
“See you soon…”
Leah tried to keep her steps measured and her expression calm as she walked toward the door of the clinic.
“Ms. Harvey?” she heard behind her. It was Natalie again. “Make sure you read that printout carefully. Looks like Peter left you some detailed instructions as part of your missed treatment protocol.”
Thank you for reading!
Ready for Chapter 4? Read on.
Click HERE to head back to the Table of Contents.
Now I'm getting paranoid; I don't trust Sarah, Peter, the doc; I don't think I trust the *pen* at this point!
Ahhh it’s great to read your story, Sara!