I had multiple swollen lymph nodes, plus I was feeling pretty tiered all the time, so I visited the docotor who sent me to get some bloodwork done.
I later recieved a call saying I tested positive in my bloodwork.
I was confused, positive? On what? before I could ask the receptionist continued, "You need to come down here as soon as possible,"
"um-okay, do you guys have anything open between 4 and 5 tomorrow?"
"No, you need to get down here, like- right, now." she replied with a town of annoyed urgency.
I felt a little worried and asked her exactly what had shown up positive on my blood test; I did not hear the answer, as my mom yanked the phone out of my hands when she heard me say this.
He brow looked furrowed, as she listned intently. Annoyed, I went up stairs to my room, but no sooner had I shut the door behind me when my mother bellowed from downstairs, "INDIRA?!"
Startled I opened the door and stuck my head out, and before I could even reply she hurridly spoke once more, "Put on your shoes, and lets go- we have to go down to the clinic."
Feeling a mixture of annoyance, alarm and fatigue I stuffed my feet into a pair of nearby sneakers and hurriedly shuffled downstairs. "Mom," I began, "What was positive on the-"
She zoomed by talking a mile a minute on her cell phone, already halfway out the door, and turning to whith an impatient expression, urging me to shuffle just a little bit faster.
Inside the car, "I dunno, they just called us up and told us to come down here...yeah. Okay see you then."
At last she hung up her phone. He dark skin glistned with sweat, and her expression seemed determined. Before long I broke the silence, "Who was that?"
"And the blood results?" A little too casualy.
"Don't worry, it's nothing seriouse."
Irrited I gave up and resumed listening to my ipod...extra loud.
Awhile later we pulled into the nice, little, middle class, Palo Verde family clinic owned by Dr. Chang at Chandler Gateway Medical Center. It's a nice little clinic, it's waiting room not much bigger than your sitting room, or a small living room. about 6 chairs take up two plain white walls which face a short hallway to the bathrooms. It's air conditioned, and oxymoronly enough also has a fireplace, which is, of course, minus the fire. Stacks of magazines I neatly pilled on a wooden shelf built into the fire place and relaxing, if not boring, new wave/acid jazz plays from overhead speakers. In the waiting room there are no bothersome, ever humming, florecent light, instead the blinds are drawn and, as trees outside the window sheild the harsh Arizona sunshine, meek stream of sunshine make their way into the room. It dosen't smell like old people, or medicine and strangley enough, apart from my mother and I, the waiting room was empty; The ambience of the waiting room is unlike a clinic in many ways. After a 15 minute wait, a young hispanic nurse with her nose peirced, opened the door, and breifly looked down at her clipboard reading aloud, "Indera?" She looked around as if there were many more people in the waiting room, even though only my mother and I sat in a nearby corner.
"Here," My mother motioned, and stood up gathering her purse and a few papers.
I followed them both into the actual clinic, where I was led to a scale. I knew the drill and not bothering to remove my shoes, I bravely stepped on the scale.
"161 pounds," the nurse muttered jotting it down on her clipboard, "This way."
We followed her through a series of hallways, which remined me of a maze. My mother and I were mice, the nurse was the cheese. Hurriedly waking without looking up from her clipboard she let us to a small and plain room.
On one wall a gray bed with what looked like gray wax paper spread across the top. Nearby an innocent, small, gray, foot stool and directly across it, and the bed, a grey counter and sink. I believe the theme was gray.
The doctor will be right with you." Quick smile, and nose peircing glinting the nurse disappeared behind the door.
I looked up the florecent lights...
"Mom?" I looked over at her on the gray little stool. She looked commical; Here sat a very overweight woman, on a tiny gray stool, her eyes closed, appearantly asleep. My mom is prone to falling asleep in quiet places in which she can rest. A few minutes is all it takes, and sometimes she'll even snore.
"Do you want to listen to some music?" My thumb was already poised on the song I wanted to play, in the "c" section, Clair de lune.
"No." her eyes remained closed.
Surprised, but not betraying any signs of it I persisted, "Are you sure? It's a song you love."
Her eyes opened into little slits to revel tired bloodshot eyes, annoyed she finaly agreed.
I sat to her left so I gave her the left earbud, and selected the song. Quiet piano music filled my right ear.
Song after song, we listened to, mostly along the same vein; Quiet, peaceful, spanish, english.
There was a quick rap at the door, my mother jumped a little, as the door immidiately opened revealing Dr. Jahver's bright smiling face.
When asked why we stopped by the clinic, I explained how I got a phone call that one of my blood test's came back positive, (glancing at my mother quickly) for what I did not know.
"Valley fever." My mother interjected in her broken english. She looked a little more awake, however just as tired.
Dr. Jahiver whent on to explain the disease, or fungus rather, and the medication she would be perscribing. A dose of 200ml was strong, she said, but it would only be for the next six month.
So I guess I have a disease now...I won't die from it, but I guess I'm sick. How strange...