I cannot nor will I attempt to deny that when it comes to my sheltered childhood and the Doctor’s office, I was a stereotypical little bitch. I was not cool, I was not hip, I was not the rouge child that wasn’t scared of shots, I was a scared little bitch that would cry and scream as my Mom slapped the shit out of me and threw me in the elevator.
A lot of my fear stemmed from my earliest memories of a Doctor’s visit. I recall the small cold room with a faulty light, flickering on and off. The people seemed more like dark shadowy figures, as apposed to tender caring humans. As I laid partially exposed (I didn’t understand why my nipples had to be in view, for all to see and laugh at) a large nurse with a intolerable amount of thick raggedy neck hair and a mucus like layer of body odor was sticking her tattooed forearm into my neck, choking me, as she smiled and told my mother my ears would be wax free in minutes. That is my first memory of the doctor’s office and its greatly affected my views ever since.
I think the underlining issue was there were never any positive encounters or events associated with the doctor’s office. Yes they gave you stickers at the end, but unfortunately mine gave you scratch and sniff stickers. Scratch and sniff stickers are amazing when they smell of french toast or chocolate cake… my doctor decided to order 16,000 scratch and sniff stickers that smelt of cat shit and syphilis. I threw up in the waiting room several times. I was not impressed. I wanted a new doctor.
I also found the sterile smell of a Doctor’s office to be cold and untrustworthy. Scents and smells are a pretty big deal to me. I found soft scents of cinnamon and lavender to be most inviting, and knew I could trust anyone who lavished their home and office in these warm scents.
I remember how my mother would trick me into going to the doctors. That silly whore would tell me we were going for ice cream and if I closed my eyes the whole car ride there I could have as much as I wanted. Boy did I relish at the thought of an unlimited amount of ice cream. Twenty minutes later I was strapped down to an operating bed with scratch and sniff stickers shoved up my nose. I soon stopped believing anything my mother said to me and threatened that if she ever took me back to the doctors office I would set her car on fire (Looking back I realize I talked this much shit to my mother because I was confident she loved me and would never try to kill me in my sleep. Note: I never said anything like this to my father, nor have I to this day. There’s a good chance he would hit me with a brass mop until I bled).
I was getting older and with my new found age I was beginning to learn names of roads. I quickly mental mapped what roades led to the doctor’s office. The issue was my doctor’s office, located on the third floor of a Barrnett Bank building, was right next to McDonald’s. Were we really getting a happy meal or was the old Jewish doctor going to jam a popsicle stick down my throat and touch my special spot? McDonald’s was a risk worth taking (I was very young and stupid and have decided since never to get into gambling). Every time I ended up in room full of snot nosed sniffling children. I am sure your first reaction is why didn’t I run? At this point my mother was very aware of me being a little bitch and was still much stronger than me. She kept me in a wicked headlock from the car to the office and once inside she would garnish a small leather belt she kept in her purse. Yes I was scared, but I wasn’t ready to die… at least not yet.
I remember the doctor would take me and my younger sister in at the same time. I knew the mind games they played. They figured if the little urine face kid sees his baby sister get her shots, maybe he won’t be such a whiny little bitch this time. WRONG! You weren’t getting in my head. Every time they would ask who wanted to be the big kid and take their shots first so they could get a sticker? Every time my sister gladly tossed her arm in the air. I would only stare at her wondering how she reasoned a shot for a sticker. If she wanted to be a fool I could not stop her, however every time she raised her hand I said something under my breath like, “You fucking fool. This is a trick. Don’t you see the games they are playing with us. They are only using you to get to me.” I was eight years old. I was no fool.
I laugh at their single mistake… leaving the room. The fat foreign nurse seemed to have forgotten the needles in the backroom. How sad. My mother was not present in the room, as she was updating our insurance information at the front desk. Again, how sad. I turned to my sister, she was flexing her muscles in the mirror, obvious preparing for the open wound awaiting her. I said something like, “Listen these idiots left the room and I’m getting the fuck out of here a-sap.” She only looked at me puzzled. She shook her head and pointed to her belt. Was she going to beat me as well? No, of course not, she must be reminding me that our mother was near. I said, “Listen Mom is stronger than me, but she’s not faster. I’m going to leave this room and if I sense any problems I’m going to run. You can come with me or you can face your death on your own, but I will not be a sheep marched to his slaughter”. She smiled at my stupidity, but said she would come along. I opened the door and my head popped out as I slowly scanned the hallway. No one was there. Was it a trick? Either way I faced death, and I chose to continue on the road to freedom. As I walked out of the door I made sure to stuff my hands in my pockets (I recently watched Weekend at Bernie’s and noticed how calm the dead Bernie looked because his hands were in his pockets). I told my sister to follow my lead. She didn’t have any pockets and just stuck her hands under her dress. I could see the door to the waiting room. Was this really that easy? Could they really not be guarding the single door to freedom? As I got closer I passed another examination room. I couldn’t help myself, I looked in and made eye contact with a boy no older than me. He was obviously already prepared for his fate. His eyes opened a little as if to say, “I am like you, let me walk with you on the road to redemption.” I looked behind him as if I someone was there. He quickly turned, and I ran up and locked him inside the room. I couldn’t risk him fucking up my plan (Again looking back, I believe I was a little pissed that he had one of the ever so popular bowl cut hair cuts that I so desperately wanted, but could never get because I was Jewish and had some cheesy lopsided Jew fro. Fuck him and his cool hair). I was only 10-12 feet away when I saw my mother’s back. She was sitting in a chair filling out papers not more than 4 feet from the single door to freedom. I mustn’t fail now. I was too close. BOOM! I was hit! A nurse carry a tray of needles sees me. It was not my nurse, but they work together. They all participated in the atrocities going on in there. Thankfully my mother had not turned around. I quickly dodge behind the corner and awaited the nurse. She ran up to me, needles in hand, and said, “Excuses me young man, just where do you think you’re going?”. Without hesitation I calmly responded, “The nurse told my sister and I we needed to go to the bathroom and pee in a cup.” I paused before I said, “Well not in the same cup”. It seemed like forever before she smiled. “Yeah, I don’t think you should pee in the same cup.” “Yeah” I said giggling, “We couldn’t find the bathroom. This office is so big I don’t know where anything is.” “Well, the bathroom is right around the corner. Think you can make it their on your own?” “Oh yes, of course.” As she walked away, her smile turned into a evil grin… then she went into the room with the boy with the cool hair. Sucks for him.
This was my last chance. I knew it had to happen now and I was ready. I tied my LA Gears and turned that corner again. My sister tapped my shoulder and pointed to the thick leather belt hanging out of my Mothers purse. I knew she would only bring me down. I pointed at the ground and said, “quick Arielle look.” She looked and I punched her square in the nose. I expected this to knock her out before I made my escape. Instead she looked at me and laughed. She flexed her muscles and whispered, “you’re going to die.” Though my sister was as strong as a baby ox, her scream still resembled a young girl in desperate need of her mother. MOMMMM!!!!! My mother turned and saw us both. She jumped for her belt, as she new exactly what I doing. I ran for the door. My mom threw the clipboard at my face while my sister laughed. I ducked and reached for the handle. It turned it open as one of the nurse’s yelled “Stop that boy.” The leather of the belt was now over powering the sterile stench of the office. I knew my mother was on my tail as I hit the waiting room. The children in there automatically recognized what was going on and despite their sickness, many yelled words of encouragements like, “You fool, you’ll never escape” ” Your mom is going to fuck you up” a small girl playing with wooden blocks looked at her father, “Daddy is that boy really running like a bitch because he’s scared of shots?” Her father shook his heads yes and continued reading, “Transgender: Making The Switch.”
After I made it past the front door I could feel the fresh air from the third floor corridor hit my face. My Mother was in the distance pleading. I told her if she came any closer I would jump over the railing. My sister came out. We made eye contact. I flicked her off and she called me a faggot. I was free. I knew to take the stairs, just in case they shut off the power in the elevator. Boy did I feel like a man walking down the three flights of stairs, into the open parking lot, and through the front door of McDonald’s. Ten minutes later my Mother and Sister showed up smiling. My sister lifted her shirt to reveal the damage. I happily rubbed my virgin arm. I asked my mom if we could get something from McDonald’s, she replied “Of course”, but said the drive through was quicker. The line was long so I didn’t question it. We headed out of the McDonald’s and I couldn’t have been happier.
The second we were out of view of anyone else my mom grabbed me, helped by my sister, and beat the living shit out of me. I was hit with the belt, her shoe, a couple rings, and I think at one point my sister threw a rock at me. I cried and cried as my sister motioned for my mother to beat me harder. A single Land Rover SUV was pulling out of the McDonald’s drive through. As I laid beaten and bruised on the hot pavement I watched a single back window come down in the car. I could now make out the boy I left to die. He was shoveling his face with fries and ice cream. I looked at him. He looked at me. He then opened a packet of ketchup and threw it at my face. It hit me in my eyes and I screamed as my pupils began to burn. My Mother kicked me and said, “Get in the car, we’re going back to the Doctor’s office.” I put my head down in shame. I was a fool for fantasizing of freedom. I was defeated.
At the Doctor’s office,
Daniel Dickey
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Yeah, I didn’t like going to the doctor’s either.