She walked into the hospital for the third time this week. She appeared completely healthy; nothing seemed to be wrong with her, physically. Why was she still coming in? I rolled my eyes as she walked up to the welcome desk.

“For the fifth time, Daisy, you don’t have cancer. Or heart disease. Or anything.” 

Daisy stopped and was taken aback.

“It’s something new this time! I have had two headaches in the past 24 hours!” Her eyes begged me to help her. 

I slapped my palm to my forehead and gestured to the elevator that led upstairs to the doctor’s office. Daisy thanked me, and I saw her push the button labeled “3”. 

…

I snapped out of my work when I heard three knocks on the door of the exam room. I wasn’t expecting a patient…who could it possibly be? I opened the door with a smiling face, but my smile faded a bit at the sight of a familiar patient. I welcomed her in, trying to rush the encounter so that I could get back to more important work. Daisy had been in my office five times in the past two weeks, all for small things like headaches or bruises. Daisy described her “symptoms” once again. Headache. Chills. Fatigue. None of them alarmed me. 

“You’re probably dehydrated and sleep deprived. Go home, drink some water, get some rest, and you will be feeling better in no time.”

Daisy would not accept this answer.

“Don’t you think I need a scan? You could be missing something!” 

I sighed, and denied the request. I had ordered too many unnecessary scans. Scans that wasted time and money. I gestured to the door, and Daisy reluctantly strolled out. A small wave of guilt washed over me, but I ignored it—unnecessary scans cause more harm than good. I went back to my work, writing notes for patients with real issues.

…

The doctor kicked me out again. Something is wrong. But nobody will listen to me; they all say that I am just some crazy hypochondriac trying to cause trouble. My head pounded as I walked back to my car. 

The whole drive home, I could tell that my symptoms were getting worse. I squinted at the speed limit signs and could barely make out the words Speed limit: 35 ahead of me. As I pulled into my driveway, I slammed the break too hard. My head banged on the steering wheel. Am I losing control of my legs? The car door felt as heavy as a semi truck. I leaned my whole body on it in hopes that it would budge. It worked. I should probably go lie down. I stumbled across the floor, using the walls as support. All I could see was blur. 

I finally made it to my bedroom door. I turned the handle, and a wave of relief swept through my body. I took the next step. One step closer. I tried to continue towards my bed, but I could no longer see anything ahead of me. I fell to the ground as everything faded to black.